


Die For You

by frozenasphalt



Series: Ivy [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, American AU, Bisexual Male Character, Character Study, Coming of Age, Dissociation, Dub Con Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Insecurity, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mouth Fucking, Past Rape/Non-con, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rimming, Self-Acceptance, Self-Harm, Size Kink, Slice of Life, Underage Drinking, as usual :'), hetero happenings, i use the word fuck a lot, pretentious ass messy ass writing, so cheesy u could have it with crackers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9540311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenasphalt/pseuds/frozenasphalt
Summary: Chanyeol is stranded in the desert of his morals. Kyungsoo is both the cause and the cure, the only water he has.





	1. You See Me Like A UFO (That's Like, Never)

**Author's Note:**

> the distance and the time between us  
> it would never change my mind  
> 'cause baby i would [die for you](https://play.google.com/music/preview/Ta6mbn7akmhbgzaxmzwja7lb3se?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-lyrics)
> 
> -this is part 2 of my ivy series. make sure to read [part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8639911/chapters/19813645) before continuing!  
> - **W A R N I N G:** this story depicts a romantic relationship (+ kissing + one instance of dirty talk) between a 16/17-year-old and an 18/19-year-old, but they do not engage in sexual intercourse until they're both of legal age. please take this into consideration before reading. thanks.

"It’s not gonna happen,” Chanyeol urges for what feels like the billionth time.

It’s one of those rare occurrences where they’re both lounging in bed, avoiding the biting weather, and the look on Kyungsoo’s face transforms from sleepy and miffed to straight up terrifying.

Kyungsoo had assented to Chanyeol’s terms and conditions regarding the celibacy pact albeit tacitly. For months, he'd been on his best behavior until his veil of contentment had fallen and cracked into a thousand little pieces, scattered amongst the wreckage of his sanity. The majority of their conversations began to consist of the younger boy bombarding Chanyeol with complaints, making failed attempts to force him to cave and break the pact. On one occasion, Kyungsoo had even FaceTimed him without clothes on in the middle of the fucking day while Chanyeol was on his way to class and since then, Chanyeol has been vigilant; all video chats have been scheduled and limited.

“You’re not even sixteen yet, Soo."

"As a great poet once said, ‘age ain’t nothing but a number, throwing down ain’t nothing but a thang’.”

Chanyeol frowns so hard his face hurts. “Those are Aaliyah lyrics.”

“My point  _being_ ,” Kyungsoo sighs, shifting under his duvet. “Time is fake and it’s not like we’re actually gonna be  _doing_  anything. So  _who_  says I can't send you nudes or we can't at least have phone sex just ‘cause you're an “adult” now?"

"Um, literally the law. The _law_  says that, babe."

"Don’t "babe" me, you fuck,” Kyungsoo spits, teeming with exasperation. “What are you even doing  _talking_  to me right now, then? The government probably monitors everything we say, anyway, so if the feds really gave a shit, you'd be someone's prison bitch by now.”

Chanyeol gulps and goes silent. His life flashes before his eyes.

“Just let me send you one picture of my--"

"For the last time.  _No_. You can do this.  _We_  can do this.”

Kyungsoo grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. He looks at Chanyeol, eyes unreadable and Chanyeol lends him a small smile. He groans. "Fine. But if my balls shrivel up and fall off, know that the culpability is entirely yours."

 

Cutting off six inches of hair after a bleaching gone wrong had been an oddly liberating experience for Chanyeol. Swearing off candy because of a particularly nasty cavity he’d acquired was less fun and once he’d powered through the sugar withdrawals, he’d felt super-human. He has yet to give up cigarettes, though (and with the stress of college he doesn’t think he’s going to anywhere in the foreseeable future).

Four years of working his ass off in high school wasn’t time wasted and the scholarship he'd been awarded to an Ivy League school in New Jersey is a plus. The decision to leave home and live on campus for the experience had been an instantaneous and unbendable one, even though he has more than enough of his own money stashed away to buy a house.

The initial sadness Chanyeol had felt leaving his loved ones behind had been a twinge that dulled into an afterthought and he never once felt homesick. Though he’s living in an entirely new environment, he doesn’t feel out of his element in the slightest and has adjusted to the life change.

Claiming a major in Music Production and a minor in English Lit, he’d been overzealous and overscheduled his courses. He thought he could handle a full load and eight a.m. classes after tackling high school, but the rigor of college courses is no joke. When he’s not preoccupied with coursework or the like, he’s napping in between lectures on whatever flat surface is available, hoarding food from the dining hall and attending every club and group activity he’d been offered.

He makes time for fun; New York City is just a train ride away and he goes whenever he has a chance because city life is more his style--free and untamed, unlike the stuffy countryside back home.

College parties are tiers above the ones he used to frequent in high school. At first he’d attempted to avoid them, but it felt rude to turn down invitations from new friends. He likewise tried to stay away from alcohol, and if he was a different person with normal impulse control, he thinks he would have been able to stick it out a little longer. But the concept is foreign and it took him about a month before he botched it. He blames Jooheon--a frat boy he’d made unlikely friends with at a Slam Poetry event--for encouraging his vices (he’s sure Jooheon has a thing for seeing how red in the face he can get while feeding him vodka shots).

Drinking himself sick though he knows he’ll have to suffer the consequences of a hangover isn’t the only trouble; other self-sabotaging behaviors include smoking too much weed (his RA Kihyun is an earth-angel and always lets him know when inspections are going on so he can hide his stash) and playing  _Overwatch_  until four a.m.

His roommate Junmyeon couldn’t be more ideal even if Chanyeol had dreamed him up. Their interests are as similar as their personalities are opposite; Junmyeon is also a queer overachiever from a wealthy background who loves to stress out about perfecting small things. He likes loud music but unlike Chanyeol, he doesn’t stay up blasting Metallica or playing guitar drunk at ass o’ clock and doesn’t throw temper tantrums that would put toddlers to shame when the kid down the hall challenges the racket by being even louder. Chanyeol doesn’t get why Junmyeon uses words like ‘insurmountable’ in casual conversation and his clothes are ironed straighter than crisp dollar bills even on classless days. He is, in general, a far more put together adult and Chanyeol thinks he’d hate Junmyeon if he wasn’t such a Nice Person.

Junmyeon’s boyfriend Minho is just as perfect. He’s the handsome son of a big shot CEO, also a college freshman who attends a school in Seoul. They met as penpals in high school and have only seen each other in person once but are going two years strong.

Chanyeol has a hundred and one questions. “And are you two, like…monogamous?”

Junmyeon nods. They’re on Junmyeon’s bed studying and Junmyeon stretches and pushes his books aside to give Chanyeol his full attention. “Last time I checked, at least.”

“How is  _that_  working out?” Chanyeol can’t help how cynical he sounds. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He just can’t imagine being in Junmyeon’s exact situation.

Junmyeon shrugs. “We have a  _butt-load_  of phone sex. Mind the pun.”

Junmyeon is one of the few people Chanyeol trusts at this school. Hypocrisy and ignorance seem to be catching diseases in this place, both of which Junmyeon is immune to. He’s accepting, straight forward and honest, and is the sole person here who has knowledge of the fact that Chanyeol is bisexual and dating a boy. Chanyeol had told all his other friends that he is in a relationship, and they’d all assumed it was with a girl, but Junmyeon had known he wasn’t straight within days of meeting him (he had attested it to his remarkable gaydar).

He decides to finally show Junmyeon a picture of Kyungsoo after only ever mentioning his name and some defining characteristics, save his age. It’s an old photo he’d snapped while Kyungsoo wasn’t looking, a personal favorite that he’d recently set as his phone’s home-screen.

Junmyeon coos. "He’s cute. How old is he, though? He looks like a newborn." 

 _There it is._  Dread sits low in Chanyeol’s belly. "Almost sixteen." 

"Ah,” Junmyeon sighs. His body has yet to spontaneously turn into a pillar of salt from the info, so the tension in Chanyeol’s muscles dissipates somewhat. “Well, the age of consent is sixteen in a handful of states, right? Because of Romeo and Juliet Laws* and whatnot."

"Not in Wisconsin. There it's eighteen and Romeo and Juliet Laws don't really exist."

"Oh. Yikes." 

"You can say that again.”

“So, how does _that_  work?”

“We started dating towards the end of my senior year. We fooled around back then, but when I turned eighteen I put an end to it. We’re supposed to be locked into a celibacy pact but he really wants to have phone sex and stuff but I refuse to do it because, I dunno. It doesn't… _sit well_  with me." 

"Not to sound crude or out of line, but it’s not like you’re creeping on a minor. Like you said, you started dating when you were both underage. So if it’s consensual, why are you worried?" 

"You mean  _besides_  the fact that I don’t wanna go to jail? I guess it’s also because I don't wanna inadvertently entice or pressure him into anything. Even if he  _thinks_  he wants it, he's young and inexperienced and I don't ever want him to regret being with me in that way, y’know?" 

Junmyeon smiles, a cheerless twitch of his lips. "It’s obvious you care about him a lot." 

Chanyeol nods. He thrusts his eyes in his lap and plays with his fingers. "I do."

"That’s all that matters. Focus the most on that. What to do next will come to you naturally."

“You’re really shit at giving advice.”

“I never said I was good at it,” Junmyeon sings. “I tried though. Initially, I was just gonna tell you that you’re  _fucked_.”

 

Chanyeol hadn't held up his end of the bargain he and Kyungsoo had made back during the fall of senior year and avoided listening to the R&B playlist Kyungsoo had made for him. Truthfully, he had only agreed to it as an excuse to spend more time with the younger boy. And after being berated by Kyungsoo, Chanyeol listened to it as he was settling into his dorm room over the summer.

Chanyeol finds the same solace in this genre that he had in rock music, experiences similar feelings from heartfelt lyrics and passionate vocals that had so deeply drawn him in to bands like Journey as a kid. He feels grateful to Kyungsoo because without him, he probably never would have been open to discover how much he likes R&B.

He has Kyungsoo to thank for opening his eyes to a plethora of new things.

The most imperative being the concept of monogamy. 

Monogamy was something he has never quite practiced. He'd always had people on the side, backup plans, and Kyungsoo is the only person who has ever made him feel like he didn’t need any of that. The average lifespan of his relationships, if you could call them that, were no more than a couple of months, but the mere thought of this thing he had with Kyungsoo expiring made him feel physically ill.

Girls and boys alike still hit on him. People crave his attention as much as he craves the attention of others, and he gladly doles it out and receives it like popsicles on a hot day. It’s harmless.

Baekhyun used to call him a sex addict and though Chanyeol knew it was as a joke, he still took it to heart. His go-to comeback was that there's a difference between that accusation and an interesting, healthy sex life ("not like you would know, anyway, since you and Sehun have been having sad, vanilla sex with only each other since middle school"). Admittedly, he does have an addictive personality; he rages when something inconveniences him from having his coffee or cigarettes when he needs them and maybe he does watch more porn these days than he should to compensate for the lack of sex he's having. But he knows it’s better than acting on the things that flash unwarranted through his mind when he goes to games and watches the cheerleaders bounce around in their skimpy tops and miniskirts or the guy down the hall walks out of the communal bathroom with a towel sitting too low on his hips.

Porn loses its allure fast and dampens his spirits. After that, his mind is left to wander to places he’d tried so desperately to veer from.

To Kyungsoo.

To fresh images in vibrant hues of the way his lithe body had bended for him.

Soon he depends solely on those thoughts to get off and the guilt that lurks is like an undead thing, insidious and unrelenting.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can evade it. 

 

 

Jooheon has just set the third or fifth row of vodka shots in front of Chanyeol and his remaining opponent looks just as fucked as he feels. The room spins as he stands and Jooheon calls “time!” so close to his ear he jumps out of his skin. He knows he shouldn’t go through this, but he doesn’t like to lose and there was a promise of a ‘bomb ass prize’ (Jooheon’s phrasing, not his). He can’t go back now that he’s come this far.

Enfolded in a haze, he manages to knock every single shot back, breaking record time and he swears he goes blind for a millisecond and the fever pitch of cheers definitely just ruined his hearing. Chanyeol’s opponent is passed out in a pool of his own vomit when he looks back over at him and he almost loses his own right then and there. Plopping back down, he breathes deep and presses the back of his hand firm to his mouth.

“So, what’d I win?” Chanyeol manages to ask Jooheon once the room has stopped spinning.

Jooheon claps him on the back. “Winner gets a lapdance from Hwasa. Moonbyul just left to go find her.”

Letting out a burp that smells like actual cleaning solution, Chanyeol shakes his head--a Bad Idea. “Wait, dude. Forget it. I’m-I’m in a relationship, you  _know_  that.”

“O _kay_ ,” Jooheon says, extending the last syllable. “But is your girl here right now?”

Chanyeol shakes his head.

“No? That’s what I thought. Don’t pussy out now, man. You’re gonna love this.”

Without further question, Jooheon grabs everyone’s attention. He pulls a chair out into the middle of the living room, then drags Chanyeol over by the wrist and pushes him down in the seat. Chanyeol wants to die. He’s staring dead-eyed into the crowd and the room is spinning even as he sits, twirling in slow motion. The crowd that has gathered around to watch begins whooping again and the severity of the situation sets in chills down his back.

Hwasa, a girl from his Introduction to Music class with thick thighs that make her quite famous on campus, struts over towards Chanyeol in time to the ugly Trap song that has just begun to blare in the background.

He can’t help but stare. He's paralyzed by pure curiosity and the shape of her ass as she turns around and bends over to touch her toes before hovering in his lap and swiveling her hips in a figure eight motion. She sits, back pressed against his chest, arm reaching behind to cradle his head in her hand and a smirk on her lips and Chanyeol can smell every note of her saccharine perfume mingled with the scent of alcohol heavy on her breath once she speaks.

“What do you say we take this back to my dorm?” she whispers, hips still working. “My roommate’s out; we could continue--make it a private show. All night.”

Chanyeol sputters, stilling her hips with shaky hands at her sides. “I-I have a boyfriend.” And shit, he hadn’t meant to say  _that_ word. But it’s left his lips before he can stop himself.

Hwasa’s face drops. She gets up immediately and turns to gape at him.

“No way. You don’t  _look_  gay. Wait. I kind of see it. It’s the dimples.”

“I’m n--”

“Hey,” she shouts, hands cupped over her mouth, inebriation causing her to slur. “Did you guys know Chanyeol has a boyfriend? He’s gay!”

The room bursts in to a cacophony of chatter drowned out only by the incessant ringing in Chanyeol’s ears. When he stands, the world feels like it’s pendulating faster than it did before and bile crawls up his throat. He sprints as quickly as his heavy feet will take him to the bathroom and hinges over a toilet but can only manage a couple dry heaves, his stomach swimming with anxiety.

Just then, Jooheon comes into the bathroom and assists Chanyeol to the sink. He splashes water on his face.

“Sorry about that, dude,” Jooheon says, offering Chanyeol paper towels and a dimpled smile. “I should have never forced you to do that.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know what to say so he just twitches his lips up at Jooheon in response. The guy is harmless, if more than a bit daft.

Jooheon’s voice drops. “Is what Hwasa said true, though?”

“I mean, the person I’m dating  _is_  a boy, but I’m not--”

Jooheon’s eyebrows thread in confusion. Chanyeol does not have it in him right now to explain the concept of bisexuality to someone who once thought transphobia was the fear of trains.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol sighs in defeat. “Yeah, it is.”

“That’s cool. But I mean, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You assumed what you wanted.”

“Right. But hey, I just wanna let you know I’m like, super down with the gays. I mean, Moonbyul is one of my best friends and she’s eaten more pussy than I have.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes to the fucking moon, Chanyeol fakes a laugh. “Good to know.”

 

Word spreads like an infection on campus and it becomes common knowledge that Chanyeol has a boyfriend. Everyone believes he's gay. He doesn't correct them. He doesn’t see the need to because girls stop hitting on him. Instead, they come to him with their boy troubles and fashion problems, neither of which he is knowledgeable. Instead, they want him as a best friend, some sort of accessory to match the new shoes they seek his advice to buy, oblivious to the fact that he has to force himself to tear his eyes away from their cleavage when they drag him into the changing rooms and undress, modeling the latest fad.

He feels like a pervert.

The kind of pervert who pretends to be gay to ogle girls.

The kind of pervert who dates underage boys.

He isn’t used to coming out. He had usually just let people become keen to his sexual preferences on their own, but being outed like this is a different thing entirely. It’s unfortunate that people he has never met know him as ‘that one gay frosh’ instead of knowing  _who_  he is first. The leader of the LGBTQ+ club finds him and begs him to join without even getting his name right and he turns her down for reasons he can’t articulate.

He doesn’t feel like his identity is being erased; he has always seen labels as optional, though he’d like to think he’s comfortable in his sexuality. When he was younger and coming to terms with it, he’d been insecure and wished that it were black and white, that he could "pick a team". He had been called his share of names by people who sensed he was into boys just as well as girls. People who could  _smell_  it.

People who didn’t matter to him in the slightest, let alone  _know_  him.

But to his surprise, here, he receives no hateful slander; everyone is accepting (to his face).

And maybe they are oblivious to the real him.

Somehow, he convinces himself, it’s better that way.

 

Chanyeol is doing a bang-up job at putting off the coursework laid out in front of him, dawdling on his phone. His soul leaves his body when Kyungsoo sends him a text--the link and password to the boyfriend Instagram account he’s started up.

He stares in desbelief. The idea  _was_ technically Chanyeol’s and Kyungsoo has posted a picture too cute to say no to, a captionless selfie, the snapback he’d stolen from Chanyeol sitting backwards on his head. He’s torn between wanting to chide Kyungsoo and wanting to plant kisses on every inch of his face (he settles on simply leaving a comment on the picture).

The page grows; they keep it safe, with only emojis for captions, more for them to show each other how they're doing, surprise one another with selfies, pictures or videos of everyday life. There's only one picture of the two of them together, one that they took when Kyungsoo was seeing Chanyeol off at the airport.

That fact makes Chanyeol depressed.

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo share hushed “I miss you”s at the end of extended midnight phone calls and Chanyeol means every syllable. But no matter how much Chanyeol physically aches to touch Kyungsoo again, he refuses to visit him. Dodges the question of when he's going to come and see him. Cancels plans to meet up last minute with prevaricated excuses even though there’s no more than two hours by plane and fifteen hours by car separating them. What’s more, he refuses to add the younger boy to group-chats that aren't with Baekhyun or Sehun and can’t help but get weird and seek solitude when he Facetimes Kyungsoo around his college friends.

He doesn't want them knowing he's dating a high school sophomore.

They  _can’t_  know.

 

"Slow down there," a sweet voice advises.

Chanyeol looks up from the meat and bean excretions he's just left on the table and in his lap from attempting to inhale a burrito whole, trying his best to convey innocence with his eyes.

Junmyeon looks disgusted and the slightest bit fond. "You okay? You look more homeless than usual." He flicks his perfect hair out if his perfect eyes with his perfect fingers and as he pulls up a chair to the table and sits, Chanyeol gets a glimpse of his own reflection in the window. It scares him stiff and he yelps.

"Please leave me to be ugly, stress-eat, and die in peace!"

“Is it Kyungsoo?”

Chanyeol makes a noise like the zombie he is and Junmyeon somehow understands it as confirmation.

“What happened now?”

“He started a Boyfriendstagram even though we’re supposed to be keeping our relationship lowkey but I guess he thought it was a good idea and I can’t tell him otherwise because he’s literally the cutest being in the galaxy and deserves everything, like, I wanna give him everything but I dunno how to show it because I’m the world’s heftiest piece of shit!” Chanyeol forgets to breathe while speaking and his head feels like a hot air balloon as he gasps.

Junmyeon snorts. “Wow. You really  _are_  fucked.”

Hinging forward, Chanyeol groans, planting his entire face into the burrito graveyard. And he can’t find the strength to even give a shit.

 

 

Everyone scrambles under the loom of midterms like the end of the world is nigh; the library is packed and in a state. Chanyeol thinks he’s found an empty seat near an outlet, but as he makes his way towards the table, a girl crawls out from underneath it like some kind of vengeful spirit, waving a Texas Instrument at him as she glares and hugs at the leg of the chair. Without words, Chanyeol retreats slowly.

After a second sweep of the library, he finally procures an empty spot. Powering up his laptop and looking to open the essay he’d been slaving over, a moment of panic settles in when he overlooks the document file.

Chanyeol stares blankly at a paragraph that needs editing for a full five minutes before his eyelashes start to flutter. He doesn’t realize he’s drifted off until he wakes up in a puddle of his own drool sticking to his keypad, a shadow hanging over him.

“Hey,” Moonbyul singsongs too cheerily for Chanyeol’s tastes. She pulls up an empty chair and sits next to him.

Chanyeol straightens and rubs his eyes with a yawn.

“Mr. Brown’s class?” she asks, looking over his shoulder and at his essay.

“Kicking my ass.”

Suddenly, Moonbyul shoves her iphone in Chanyeol’s face and shows him the page she’s pulled up--his and Kyungsoo’s Instagram. Chanyeol’s skin goes icy. He could have sworn he made the account private; Kyungsoo must have changed it. Either way, how the hell did she even find it?

Moonbyul clicks on the most recent picture and double taps, then continues to scroll through the page. “Who’s the kid in all these?” she pries. “He looks like a baby. A cute baby, but a baby nevertheless. He isn't the mystery boyfriend you mentioned, right?"

Panic manifests itself as a cold sweat on Chanyeol’s brow. "No, um. He's just a…close cousin."

Moonbyul’s bottom lip juts out. She studies Chanyeol's face. For a moment, he thinks he’s been caught in a lie, but she shrugs in defeat and he can finally breathe out; she’s bought it.

“Damn,” she sighs. “When the hell are you gonna at least show me a pic of this guy? I’m starting to think he doesn’t even exist and you’re lying about being gay to get chicks, which is  _such_  an old trick, by the way. It would make sense though, seeing as the way you dress screams sad, seedy straight boy. Loudly.”

Slapping Moonbyul on the shoulder, Chanyeol emits a nervous cackle and changes the subject before she prods any further.

 

That night, Chanyeol deletes the Instagram without telling Kyungsoo. It’s a trigger reaction; he can’t stop his finger from hitting the button but he doesn’t regret it.

It’s for the best.

 

A few hours trek by before Chanyeol’s phone lights up with a call from Kyungsoo. He’s almost hesitant to answer; he expects the younger boy to chew him out immediately but when he picks up the phone, the only sound he hears is that of Kyungsoo’s soft sniffling.

Kyungsoo’s voice is hoarse. "Are you…embarrassed of me?"

“Are you cutting onions over there, or what?” Chanyeol curses himself the second the sentence leaves his mouth.  _Bad time to make jokes, Chanyeol._

“Answer the question.”

Chanyeol inhales sharply through his nose. "Of course not, baby."

"Firstly, please shove your pet-names up your ass from now on,” Kyungsoo grinds out, words drawn like a blade to Chanyeol’s jugular. “And second, I  _know_ you are. You’ve gotta be. Why else would you delete our Boyfriendstagram? Why else would you avoid meeting up with me for this long? And don't say it's time or money because you could literally  _buy_  an airport if you wanted. I’m tired of feeling like your dirty little secret. I may not have my permit yet but I swear to god I will drive up there myself if you don't--"

"No need for that. We’ll see each other soon, okay? I swear."

 

Break is like a gift from the gods and for some reason, Chanyeol is grateful Kyungsoo is in Korea visiting his grandparents. He has yet to keep his promise; he still hasn’t been to see Kyungsoo but Kyungsoo has likewise stopped pestering him about it. They don’t video chat as often as before and Chanyeol can feel the relationship straining like a rope around his neck.

He hasn’t the strength to loosen it.

Christmas and New Years are a flash and then a blur; Chanyeol spends both piss drunk. Junmyeon nurses him back to health after he vomits in a stranger’s baby Jesus in a manger display on the way home and Chanyeol owes him his life because without Junmyeon, he’d probably be pantsless and half dead somewhere on the interstate highway.

For the last few days of break, Chanyeol accompanies Junmyeon to visit his older sister and her husband, a professor and a doctor respectively. The couple rent a loft in New York and Chanyeol feels right at home in their stylishly decorated guestroom.

They’re just as smiley as Junmyeon, if not more so, and have an affinity for wine older than dirt paired with foreign cheeses that taste like feet. They don’t go out past ten and want to start trying for a baby soon. They’re something straight out of a sad, unfunny 1950s sitcom and Chanyeol’s trying not to space out as he sits through yet another bland game of charades.

He’s just about given up on trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to guess ‘Baywatch’ from the way Junmyeon had gracelessly jogged in place (his tits pale in comparison to Pamela Anderson’s) when the sound of his ringtone saves his life and gives him justification to excuse himself from the game.

He plods to the kitchen. Before he can even get the phone to his ear, Kyungsoo is speaking.

“Let’s take a break,” Kyungsoo says, monotone.

Chanyeol’s heart sinks. “Wh--”

“Just for a month or so. Just until I get my head together.”

“Wait. Please,  _please_  don’t do this. I’ve fucked up continuously. I get that. But you _must_ know that a break is the last thing I want, right?”

Chanyeol waits for Kyungsoo’s response for almost a full minute before he realizes the line has gone dead.

 

 

Kyungsoo ignores all of his calls and texts after that, even the birthday messages he sends. His pleas for forgiveness mere echoes on currents of stale wind.

Sehun has deleted him from of the group-chat and refuses to add him back and he knows he’s fucked up when Baekhyun sends him a text devoid of even the slightest drop of sarcasm.

 **I**   **know you’re not the most versed when it comes to relationships, but the kid would literally brave oceans for you. So fucking man up and take responsibility!**

Chanyeol doesn’t bother with a response.

He deserves this.

 

 

Chanyeol hates crying over his problems. Self-pity is useless and looks unbecoming on him. He would rather have a quick cry in the bathroom after a fuck up, push it to the back of his mind rather than dwell on it for extended periods. But when he gets home after receiving a sixty-eight percent on a test, the lowest grade he’s scored since middle school, he plops down at his desk without taking off his coat and back pack, stares unseeing at the wall in front of him before tears blur his vision. His body is shaking from the force of his sobs and it isn't just the test; it's months--years of bottling up his feelings, bad habits made of pretending to be calm and collected for the sake of other’s perceptions of him.

The expertise of maintaining face peeling like paint off weathered shutters.

 

The day has been jam-packed with mind-numbing lectures as well as Songwriters Society and a Student Government meeting he had dozed almost completely through. And though Chanyeol knows he's supposed to meet up with Jooheon after wrapping up, he cancels on him for the second time this week with lies that he doesn’t feel well and heads straight home. All he wants to do is be dead to the world.

As he walks into the dorm, he pays little mind to the two people chattering on Junmyeon's bed. He assumes this is one of the rare times Junmyeon has invited company over and grunts a garbled greeting to them both, eyes weighed down with the need for sleep. He stops dead in his tracks as realization strikes him and drops all of the books in his arms, whipping back around.

"Sehun?" Chanyeol croaks and he’s definitely not dreaming; Sehun is reclined on Junmyeon’s bed like he owns it, arms propped behind his head, eyebrows cocked as he looks at Chanyeol. "Why are  _you_  here?"

"Thought I'd pay a surprise visit to one of my oldest friends,” Sehun says like it’s nothing, throwing his legs off the side of the bed. “Do you not  _want_  me here?"

Chanyeol looks to Junmyeon, who is wearing a half-smile half-grimace. He doesn’t even want to  _think_  about the dirt Sehun has undoubtedly revealed to the other boy. "That's not what I meant."

Sehun smiles. "Good. I'd like a tour, then, if you don't mind." 

 

Sehun attracts attention from fawning groups of girls just by breathing. He ignores them, even throws a handful of them glares sharp enough to wound when their squealing becomes too grating, and Chanyeol wishes he had even a sliver of that sort of repugnance for humankind.

Chanyeol almost pisses himself as he spots a fraction of Jooheon’s frat-boy posse. He ducks for cover just in case Jooheon is lagging somewhere near behind, relieved when he sees no sign of the other boy.

They catch a short bus ride and Chanyeol shows Sehun around the literature and art buildings, knows he’ll appreciate the foliage and sculptures decorating the quad. After Sehun snaps some pictures on his iphone, Chanyeol takes him to his favorite on-campus café, even offers to buy Sehun whatever he wants (Sehun decides on something too sweet for this time of evening). 

 

"Did you drive here?" Chanyeol asks. They're sitting on a bench outside of the café, gazing into the star-speckled night sky. Though it's somewhat biting, Chanyeol relishes the wind on his face. 

Sehun nestles closer to his side, a hand shoved into his pocket. "No. I spent some of the money I was saving up for a new camera on a plane ticket. You owe me like, three hundred dollars."

Chanyeol laughs but Sehun is dead serious.

" _Fuck you_ ," Chanyeol sings in a high pitched tone. Sehun snickers.

Sighing and straightening his posture, Sehun turns to look at Chanyeol. "Junmyeon's really cute."

"Yeah, I guess. If you like preppy power bottoms. Eyes off by the way, he has a boyfriend."

"You dicking him, or what?"

The smirk on Chanyeol’s lips dies as Sehun’s expression turns dark. “I just said he has a boyfriend.”

“You also just said he’s a power bottom?”

“It was a joke!”

“You and Kyungsoo are on break. Celibacy pact or not, dating has never stopped you from fucking around with other people before."

Chanyeol mock-cries, amping up the dramatics. "I resent that."

Not amused in the slightest, Sehun eyes him, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not dicking him, okay?” Chanyeol asserts and he doesn’t know why his face feels hot. “I'm not dicking anyone. Believe it or not, it's the truth."

"If you're not hoeing around like usual, why else haven’t you come to see Kyungsoo yet?” Sehun demands, voice a somber boom.

“I’ve just been so busy—”

“Shitty excuse. Are you dating him as a joke or what?”

“What? No, I--”

“You do realize Kyungsoo only decided to take a break for your sake, right? Because he thought it might be what you want. Because he thinks you’re losing interest.”

Chanyeol’s thoughts are buzzing. A detuned radio. Useless static.

“All he does these days is cry over you. More so than when he was crushing on you. So, for the love of god, would you please stop being a dick and just go see him? He cares about you. He’s waiting for you to salvage him from his own anxieties again and no matter how much you care about him, you can’t do that if you keep letting your pride blind you. And I  _swear_  to all that is gay, if you break this kid’s heart, I’m gonna break my foot off in your sorry ass.” Sehun knocks their foreheads together, hand squeezing the back of Chanyeol’s neck. The pressure is somehow simultaneously heartening and petrifying. “Got it?”

Chanyeol nods. “ _Got it_.”

Just then, the abrupt sound of his name being called startles Chanyeol. He turns to see Moonbyul with a few of her friends in tow, approaching the bench.

Moonbyul’s mouth is twisted up into a mock-scowl. “Oi, Jooheon said you cancelled on him because you weren’t feeling well. But you look pretty damn peachy to me.”

“A-ah, yeah, that’s--”

“Oh my god,” Wheein squeaks. She looks between Sehun and Chanyeol. “Is  _this_  your mystery man?”

Sehun scoffs. “Please. You couldn’t  _pay_  me to date this Sesame Street reject.”

 

Chanyeol could always count on Sehun to give him a kick in the ass when he needed it. When they were kids, Chanyeol used to run and hide from Sehun when he saw the younger boy because he was always frowning and his eyebrows were too thick for his age. Sehun didn’t say much but when he did, he was bold and would often express his distaste for Baekhyun’s loudness when no other kid dared. Growing up, he was always the voice of reason, the level headed one when Baekhyun and Chanyeol had trouble seeing over the peaks of their own egos. His energy balanced theirs out. And maybe that’s why the three of them had been friends for so long, why Sehun and Baekhyun had been hopelessly in love since before they even knew it.

The contrast of each of their personalities an equilibrium. 

 

The next week, Chanyeol books a last minute flight without informing anyone back home and sits with jittery limbs and a swollen heart the entire way, his thoughts outrunning him.

He texts Kyungsoo to meet him in about two hours at the same restaurant he’d taken him for his fifteenth birthday. And as he departs the plane, for some reason, he can’t catch his breath. 

**What the fuck.**

**You’re actually here?**

**n the flesh <3**

**wear ur school uniform ;)**

Chanyeol rents a fancy car and books an even fancier hotel, all the while ignoring stares from the concierge and patrons alike because he’s dressed in a tattered hoodie four times too big and ripped jeans and probably smells repulsive because his nerves have had him sweating like a hog. He hops in and out of the shower and spends too much time changing outfits before just settling on the same hoodie and a darker, less holey pair of skinny jeans.

He gets stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic; he’s already running thirty minutes late because he made a detour to buy flowers, like a true romantic.

**Where are you?**

**b there in 15**

**If you’re not here by then, I’m leaving.**

Kyungsoo is standing outside of the restaurant when Chanyeol arrives, a prominent pout on his lip (and he actually listened to Chanyeol’s flippant request and wore his school uniform though it’s the weekend). Chanyeol sneaks up behind him as quietly as he can without being seen and wraps his arms around Kyungsoo in a spine-crushing back hug.

“Surpri--” Before he can get out the last part of the word he’s being elbowed in the chin so hard he sees the world go black.

“You scared the shit out of me, you dickhead!” Kyungsoo shouts as Chanyeol doubles over in pain, snatching the bouquet of flowers out of his hands and beating him with it. He calls him every name in the book and hits him again for good measure before embracing him.

 

"I guess I deserved that," Chanyeol comments as they sit in the restaurant and wait for their food to arrive, holding a rapidly melting ice cube to his chin. 

"Damn right you did," Kyungsoo spits back, arms crossed over his chest. But as their eyes meet and his gaze softens, Chanyeol can tell he feels bad about it.

Chanyeol’s ice cube slips out of his fingers and into his hoodie and he hisses at the coolness that pools against his chest then to his belly.

Kyungsoo laughs at his discomfort. Chanyeol has missed the sound.

They fall into easy conversation. Kyungsoo updates him on how his guitar skills have been improving, how he would have preferred practicing guitar instead of sitting through the birthday party Jongdae had thrown him at his house when his parents were away (it got crashed by noisy public school kids), tells him how Jongdae managed to get Wendy, a public school sophmore way out of his league, to agree to be his girlfriend as if by entrancing her with some sort of dark sorcery.

Kyungsoo also lets him in on the fact that he has recently come out at school like it’s old news. And Chanyeol fights off a damper settling on his spirits because he's missed  _so_  much.

"I think it had a lot to do with making up with Irene,” Kyungsoo reasons. “She helped me through coming out, made it seem less scary."

"Aaah, that's awesome! I’m super proud of you."

"Thanks,” Kyungsoo smiles, bright and genuine. “Yeah, like I was saying, Irene just moved a state over and has been to see me more than my own boyfriend has." The smile still sits on his lips but the spite in his voice negates it.

Chanyeol chews on his tongue. "…You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope." Silence becomes them. Kyungsoo nibbles at his bottom lip, gaze shifting. “In all seriousness, it’s,” he says, his voice tapering off. “It’s good to see you. Sorry about springing the break on you, shutting you out and all that. I was just  _dead_  tired of feeling like you didn’t miss me as much as I missed you.”

Sorrow brims in Kyungsoo’s eyes and Chanyeol’s chest aches. “Soo, I--”

“Enough about that, though. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“Come here.” Chanyeol stretches his arm out beside him and gestures to the open space. Kyungsoo doesn’t hesitate to get up and fill it. Chanyeol holds him close, Kyungsoo’s arms circling his waist and his head rested against his chest.

This is nice but Chanyeol has no idea why his heart feels so goddamn melancholy. Chanyeol wants to fold Kyungsoo neatly into his tote bag and whisk him away from this inert, lonesome town.

Away from everything. Just them alone.

Soon, the waitress appears with their food and giggles at the sight of the two of them. Ruddy in the cheeks, Kyungsoo scrambles to sit up. He stays put while she serves them though, and they eat side by side, fingers twining together every now and again beneath the table.

“So,” Chanyeol starts, giving Kyungsoo's thigh a squeeze. “Does this mean our break is officially over, or?”

Kyungsooo’s only response is shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

 

After finishing their meal, Chanyeol lets Kyungsoo drag him to the bowling rink though he hates the sport (he has no coordination for it not to mention the shoes make him look like a clown). Kyungsoo knows beating him will be simple and pokes fun at him when all he throws are gutter balls. Though he’s simmering, Chanyeol can’t be angry at Kyungsoo who is saturated in youth and a contagious mirth and Chanyeol hasn’t felt this carefree since he left home.

Chanyeol goes outside for a smoke. Kyungsoo follows close behind and as he lights up, Chanyeol catches Kyungsoo ogling him from his peripheral.

“What?” he asks, blowing a torrent of smoke up into the air. “Distracted by how cool I look?”

“No, you dumbass. I was just gawking at how tall you’ve gotten. Must be at least two inches in less than a year. It’s unfair.”

“You’ve grown too, though.”

“Yeah, like four measly centimeters. If you keep it up, I’ll never catch up to you.”

Chanyeol pats him on the head and studies him. "You do know I was just kidding when I told you to wear your uniform to our date, right?"

" _Any_ thing to indulge your kinks," Kyungsoo deadpans.

"Hey. I  _don't_  have a uniform kink. I’m not  _that_  sleazy.”

Pursing his lips, Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him and the tips of Chanyeol’s ears start to burn.

Kyungsoo snorts. "Can I have one?" he asks, gesturing to Chanyeol’s pack of cigarettes.

"You smoke now?"

"No. I just figured maybe if I took it up, you'd stop."

Chuckling dryly, Chanyeol sets a cigarette between Kyungsoo’s lips and lights it for him. He watches as the younger boy’s forehead wrinkles in concentration as he inhales too fast, causing him to cough and choke on the exhale, eyes watering. Chanyeol pats him on the back and once Kyungsoo has regained his breath, Chanyeol laughs louder because he assumes Kyungsoo is laughing too, his gaze cast toward the ground, a hand over his face, shoulders vibrating. It takes a few moments too long for Chanyeol to become aware of the fact that Kyungsoo isn’t laughing.

He’s crying.

Chanyeol inches closer to him in baby steps. “Soo?”

Kyungsoo looks up, tears streaming down his cheeks. Moving Kyungsoo’s glasses out of the way, Chanyeol wipes at his boyfriend’s face with both of his sleeves and Kyungsoo’s wraps his hands around the taller boy's wrists.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. If you want me to quit that badly, I’ll quit, Shorty. There’s no need to cry about--"

“It’s not that,” Kyungsoo hiccups, struggling to regain composure. “I’m sorry, it’s just—fuck, I was trying so hard  _not_  to do this.” He takes Chanyeol’s hands in his own and laces their fingers together. And as Chanyeol searches Kyungsoo’s yearning eyes, he can tell he has a million things racing through his mind that he can’t find the words to articulate, lips and hands trembling.

Chanyeol breaks eye contact to survey the area around them. He then leads Kyungsoo by the hand into an alleyway so that they’re concealed from sight.

He pushes the younger boy up against the brick wall harder than he’d meant to, and the hiss Kyungsoo lets out makes Chanyeol soothe a hand over the tuft of hair at his nape and down his neck.

The light seeping in from the crack is scarce but Kyungsoo’s gaze still burns hot. Tears glisten in the dark as they cascade down Kyungsoo’s cheeks and Chanyeol feels like a thousand kilos are on his chest when he inches closer, their panted breath mingling, a turbulent surge of desire burning through him.

It’s Kyungsoo who closes the distance; he kisses Chanyeol edaciously and Chanyeol shivers at the heat of his mouth, the caress of his lips more dizzying than he remembers. Kyungsoo’s hands grip for purchase like gravity might fail him at any moment, pulling, tugging, desperate and Chanyeol swears he can taste seven months of frustration as Kyungsoo moves for Chanyeol to deeper delve his tongue into his mouth.

They’re both breathless when they part, Chanyeol woozy with the sight of Kyungsoo’s puffy lips.

“I love you,” Kyungsoo declares and Chanyeol didn’t know it was possible for a heart to sink and soar all at once.

Chanyeol opens his mouth to speak but then presses his lips back together. His throat dries up. “I love you, too,” he blurts back. The words feel foreign on his tongue, like a language he’d never quite grasped, yet simultaneously like they belong uttered there in that space between their lips. And there only.

Even though he knows he shouldn't, Chanyeol is beguiled by the soft crimson that suffuses Kyungsoo’s face and invites him back to his hotel. Kyungsoo agrees and Chanyeol’s hands shake as they grip the steering wheel the entire drive there.

Kyungsoo holds tight to his hand on the way up to the hotel room.

Chanyeol’s heart is beating like it’s trying to split his fucking breast plate open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -damn back at it again with that dramatic bullshit  
> -if any errors stand out, pls let me know  
> -m rating for now, just to be safe....i kno it's kind of a...problematiqué subject :/ there will be smut but not until like the last couple of chapters, so......  
> -*read more about romeo and juliet laws [here](http://criminal-law.freeadvice.com/criminal-law/violent_crimes/romeo-and-juliet-law.htm)  
> -also, just to clarify: i don't condone adults dating minors irl!!!! this particular situation (chansoo dating as minors then pcy turning 18 and deciding to wait for ksoo) is sensitive and debatable but there is no excusing a full grown adult who pursues children!!!!!!  
> -chapter title from frank ocean's [self control](https://vimeo.com/183423858)


	2. Before I Was Found, I Didn't Want To Breathe Out

Though he’s just eaten, Chanyeol orders room service. It’d be a waste not to. He pretends to be sad when Kyungsoo declines the decadent chocolate-covered strawberries he offers.

They settle in and snuggle up on the downy king sized bed and Chanyeol orders their favorite comedian’s newest standup release. It exceeds Chanyeol’s expectations and has him barking with laughter. Kyungsoo, however, is still solemn, and if it wasn’t for the other boy’s body heat, arm pressed against Chanyeol’s as he leans into his side, Chanyeol would have forgotten he was there.

Unable to enjoy the movie this way, Chanyeol presses pause after mulling over ways to attempt to cheer his boyfriend up. Without explanation, he leaves Kyungsoo’s side and sneaks out into the hall where he’d earlier caught sight of an unattended, unopened bottle of champagne sitting on ice a few rooms over in hopes that it’s still there. As he pokes his head out the door, he discovers it in the same exact spot, sends up a silent thank you to the heavens and then swipes it. The ice has melted, but it’ll do.

“Did you steal that?” Kyungsoo accuses upon Chanyeol’s return.

Chanyeol ignores his question for a moment to raid the kitchen cabinets in search of champagne glasses. He pops the bottle open and savors the sound and sight of the foam that burbles out. The fact that he’s soothed by both should probably make him worry (it doesn’t).

“Don’t think of it as stealing,” he tells Kyungsoo with a shrug. He hands him a glass and pours. “Think of it as making good use of something that would have otherwise gone to waste. Recycling. I’m saving the freaking planet. I’m basically Superman.”

Snorting, Kyungsoo takes the champagne without further opposition. It helps; he invests himself in the remainder of the movie, laughs hard at even the most inappropriate jokes. When it ends, he gushes over his favorite parts. Somewhere along the way, the shape of Kyungsoo’s lips as they fashion words and the heat of his fingertips renders Chanyeol inattentive. Kyungsoo must realize he’s not listening anymore because he pinches his leg and Chanyeol makes a show of yelping and holding his knee to his chest, rolling over in pain like he’s just broken it. Kyungsoo lets out a bout of snickers and it’s the cutest thing Chanyeol’s ever heard.

“Are you listening to me?” Kyungsoo asks. His cheeks are rosy and his voice rings louder than usual, heart-shaped smile making butterflies swarm in Chanyeol’s stomach.

Chanyeol opens his mouth to formulate a bullshit response. But before he can do so, Kyungsoo kisses him, a quick press of lips, almost timid. It knocks the breath out of Chanyeol in any case, more so when Kyungsoo leans back in and kisses him deeper and there’s no grace or polish this time around, just a desperate need to  _taste._  Against his better judgment, Chanyeol allows himself to melt into it, chasing the flavor of heaven on Kyungsoo’s tongue, shuddering with every beat.

Chanyeol doesn’t remember Kyungsoo being so good at this. He guesses he’d been a decent teacher if  _this_  is the fruit of his labor but now it feels like he’s the one being instructed; Kyungsoo’s one hundred percent in charge, starved for pleasure.

“Touch me,” Kyungsoo rasps, straddling Chanyeol’s thighs. He takes Chanyeol’s hands and guides them to his ass where they’d usually be by now, as if knowing that Chanyeol has been killing himself holding back. Chanyeol doesn’t need to be told twice, grabs handfuls and fondles and the groan Kyungsoo emits goes straight to his groin.

Kyungsoo grabs at Chanyeol’s belt and hooks his fingers into his jeans. Chanyeol recoils from the touch with a jolt, the reflex of pulling away from a hot oven, guilt a wicked gale in a sea of emotions.

Disregarding Kyungsoo’s look of concern, Chanyeol fumbles off the bed and to his feet.

“I’m gonna, uh, take advantage of the tub and have a bubble bath,” he announces. “Haven’t been able to do it at school, what with the communal bathroom and all. But you knew that.” He bites his tongue before he starts to ramble. He needs to calm his nerves.

“Can I join you?” Kyungsoo asks, eyes wide as he looks up at Chanyeol. His pupils are still blown out, an ephemeral impression of innocence belying his previous actions.

It’s always been difficult to deny those eyes.

“That’s not the best idea. Maybe I should call you an Uber.”

Kyungsoo’s expression becomes indiscernible. He goes to stand. “Right,” he sighs, nodding. “You want me to leave.”

“No, I don’t want that. It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to leave, but…we  _can’t_.” Kyungsoo doesn’t utter a word. Chanyeol scratches his cheek. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Kyungsoo worries at his lip, a bad habit of his. Chanyeol knows he’s bound to tear skin, and sure enough, blood begins to dot against the younger boy’s lip. Sighing, Chanyeol grabs a tissue and presses it to the wound for a few seconds. Soon the bleeding stops and Chanyeol brushes his thumb over the flared red mark left behind, electricity running through him.

Their gazes line up and Chanyeol softens and stiffens all at once. He despises himself for the fact that he's the primary cause of the dolefulness in Kyungsoo's eyes yet again.

“Listen,” Chanyeol says. “It’s not that I don’t  _want_ you, it’s just…” His words trickle off and it sounds pathetic.

“I understand. You’re a man of your word; you’re just doing what you think is right.” Kyungsoo forces a smile, lip splitting and blood seeping through once more and Chanyeol has never felt such poignant sadness. “You’re a good person. It’s my fault. No need for explanation.” He takes the tissue from Chanyeol’s hands. Thrusting his eyes to his feet, he gently dabs at his lip. “Clarify this though,” Kyungsoo says after several moments of quiet, his voice small. The light paints his face in a way that makes Chanyeol’s breath leave him as their gazes realign. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?”

“When you said you loved me back. Did you mean it or were you just saying it because you felt like you needed to?”

“Of  _course_  I meant it, baby.”

Kyungsoo’s voice is but a whisper. “Then say it again. Say you don’t regret agreeing to ever date me in the first place.”

Heart stuttering, Chanyeol abruptly takes Kyungsoo’s face in his hands and peers into his eyes. “Look. Meeting you was one of the best things to ever happen to me and I’d do it again, a hundred times over. I know that sounds excessive, but it’s…the  _fucking truth_. And it may not seem like it all the time and I hesitated when you told me, but that’s because no one’s said those words to me before and meant them. Ever. I wasn’t even sure how it—how  _love_  felt. Couldn’t see the dewfall until I was covered in it. Until now.  _I love you_.”

At once, Kyungsoo tackles Chanyeol back down onto the bed in a koala hug, clings to him for life and leaves a kiss against his clavicle, an unspoken ‘thank you’. Chanyeol can feel the other boy’s breathing, small body vibrating as he enfolds Kyungsoo in his arms. But this time, Kyungsoo isn’t crying.

He’s begging.

He  _needs_  this.

Chanyeol holds him there like that until the shadows in the sky cry themselves into shades of dawn.

 

 

It feels bizarre being back in this town now that so many of his friends have left it. Baekhyun, presently away to visit his older brother Baekbeom in London, took a gap year so that he and Sehun could enter the same college together. Chanyeol is blown away by his selflessness. Jongin was granted a football scholarship and is on the other side of the country basking in sunny grandeur. Yixing is taking advantage of a foreign exchange program and goes to a university all the way in Paris (lucky bastard), and Minseok changed his number and deleted all of his social media accounts directly after graduation. No one has heard from him since.

Chanyeol only knows from Facebook that Seulgi still works at his favorite café because he doesn’t make time to call or text the younger girl as often as he’d like. He pops by for an espresso. And as he walks toward the counter, Seulgi is stunned to see him; her features light up like argon flash and she hugs him on sight, her signature floral perfume invading his senses. They catch up on her break; she updates Chanyeol about getting accepted to the school of her dreams, bemoans her lack of a love life and lets him in on the fact that she knew he was interested in Kyungsoo as more than a friend even before she and Chanyeol started dating.

“It was the way you looked at him,” she admits. A smirk begins to play on her lips. “That twinkle in your eyes that was absent when you looked at me.”

“Why did you agree to going out with me, then?”

“I thought I could make you forget about him. I was wrong. It was worth a try, though!”

Seulgi’s eyes become crescents and she laughs, loud and dauntless, and Chanyeol is reminded why he fell for her. He thinks that in a different life, light-years away from this moment, they could’ve been good together. Happy even. The thought is fleeting and he’s happy, at least, to treasure all she gave him. He appreciates everything they weren’t. As he leaves, she embraces him again, makes him swear not to be a stranger and hit her up some time and he makes her that promise.

All the while knowing he won’t keep it.

 

Chanyeol hates the emptiness that settles in his chest as he wanders through the streets seemingly bereft of life. Most of his memories, though pleasant, are just that--ghosts of the past.

He will never miss this town.

 

He attends Sunday Mass for the first time since he'd left home. Truth be told, he never had relish for homilies and hymns, but he makes the last five minutes of service and doesn’t bother finding a seat, just stands at the back. Silent and out of sight. His eyes lock onto his dad who is pacing the altar, giving a powerful sermon in his elegant robes, the sunshine from the window casting heavenly flecks of light on him. This image of him has always instilled such veneration in Chanyeol; it’s a representation of how he has forever seen his dad--powerful yet gracious. A figure of hope and reason.

His dad gives the Final Blessing. As the bell chimes, he waves the procession of saints off at the door. He doesn’t notice Chanyeol until the very last of the patrons—a woman full of questions and grateful tears—has left, his eyes widening with surprise.

“Chanyeol?”

“Hey, Father. Have time for a confession?”

 

Chanyeol hasn't made a formal confession like this since he was twelve. A year or so thereafter, he stopped sharing personal details and feelings with his dad voluntarily altogether. It wasn’t anything either of them had done and they were as close as a priest and his teenage son could be (they still talk but Chanyeol doesn't call him as much as he should).

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was…” He stops to calculate. “About six years ago.” His dad is already privy to this bit of information. Still, Chanyeol feels the need to say it aloud.

His dad reads a passage from the Holy Scripture and though he’s heard it before, studied it thoroughly, it all sounds like babble to Chanyeol. Meaningless and vapid.

“Right,” Chanyeol sighs, breathing deeply. “So, about the boy I’m dating…”

“Sophomore and Honors student Kyungsoo Do.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a good kid.”

When Chanyeol and Kyungsoo had returned from his summer home, Father Park had approached Chanyeol with questions about the nature of the relationship between the two of them (though it was obvious to Chanyeol that he had long since put two and two together without vocalizing it just from the way he looked at them). There was no use in lying; Chanyeol told him the full story, albeit with his fists and jaw clenched from reluctance. Father Park had just nodded his approval and told him how fond he was of Kyungsoo.

“What about him?”

“Well, you see, we met up last night and ended up…making out.”

Chanyeol searches his dad’s eyes for a response, but his expression is blank, uniform.

“W-we didn’t  _do_  anything more but even so, there’s this guilt itching at the back of my mind, shallow but constant like a reanimated corpse scraping at its coffin. Every time I look at him--every time I  _think_  about him, I feel things that I shouldn’t. If he were anyone else, I would have ended it with him instead of telling him I’d wait for him, tossed him aside a long time ago. But he’s not  _just_  anyone.” He exhales and blinks back the sting of tears as he shifts his gaze to the cross dangling from the rosary gripped in his palm, tattered and cracked.

His dad hums his understanding. “If you love this boy as much as I think you do, then you need to do this for both your sakes. Continue to resist your flesh. Purify your thoughts. Pray and ask God for strength to power through this and He will guide you.”

Chanyeol nods though the counsel does little to quell the unease itching at his palms. Father Park assigns Penance and Chanyeol goes through the motions, says an Act of Contrition with the same hollowness in his heart.

 

Chanyeol has been powering through things since he was a newborn. Born thirty-four weeks premature, a frail, sickly thing, he spent weeks in the hospital after his birth. No one had expected him to live long; on top of being severely anemic, he had respiratory distress syndrome. By the grace of God (as his dad used to say), he made a full recovery, could breathe on his own, gained weight steadily, and went home without any further complications besides a bout of childhood asthma.

His mom died less than a year later. Sometimes he wonders if he’d been the one to die instead, maybe God would have allowed his mother to live.

Growing up a priest's son and a choir boy had automatically made adolescence ten times more gauche than it needed to be and finding himself was a challenge. In a way, he’d wished his dad—his uncle had never adopted him, had left it up to a stranger. Then, maybe he could have avoided the eternal struggle of being the perfect son while wearing fake smiles or feeling perpetually dirty even after getting baptized as a teen. He wouldn’t have felt so pressured to hurry up and ‘accept God into his heart’ as he’d been so urged in order to ensure his entry to heaven. Confused when he didn’t feel any different after doing so.

His dad used to tell Chanyeol that he had “faith like a mustard seed” (Chanyeol remembers the scripture he pulled that line from. It had something to do with exorcising demons and he had an irrational fear of being possessed as a kid because of a tale his friend had told about how it was possible for Satan to enter a person’s body if they did bad things). That though he questioned God, it was enough that he believed at all because his faith would grow eventually.

It never did.

The first time he questioned God’s existence, he was five and his pet ferret had just died. He had neglected to feed it. After crying his eyes raw, praying and praying and  _praying_  for it to come back to life but seeing it still lie lifeless there on the bottom of its cage, he’d convinced himself that maybe God just didn’t hear him.

The moment he knew God had no intention of hearing him, he was on his knees at the foot of the altar, tears blurring his vision. The dark, empty chapel was still around him, his crying the only sound to be heard. Vomit had been soiling his school uniform and his throat was still burning, his body harrowed and heavy, forehead sore as it chafed against the carpet with the force of his sobs.

Abandoned. Alone as he was destined to be when he came into this vile world.

Even now, through all of that, he still grasps at the straws of his faith though they’re miles from him.

He doesn’t know anything else.

 

 

 

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol take a three hour drive to meet up with Irene and her boyfriend Jinki at a middle point between them, a lively nineties themed arcade masquerading as a restaurant. Kyungsoo had mentioned Chanyeol’s visit to Irene and she’d insisted on meeting him before he left.

They are greeted by the couple almost immediately upon arrival, their looks outshining everyone and making them easy to spot in a crowd. Irene is the kind of pretty that makes everyone who passes her stop in their tracks and break their fucking necks in pursuit of a second glance. Chanyeol isn’t exempt; he feels bad for gawking at her in front of Kyungsoo and Jinki but can’t help himself. She’s  _that_  mesmeric.

Irene flashes a smile, a gleam of white. She stretches her hand out in offering, and Chanyeol takes it, wondering if he's imagined the way her lips have just quirked up devilishly.

She yanks her hand away from his grasp, crosses her arms across her chest and cocks a hip, emitting a choked laugh. Tongue poking at the inside of her cheek, she turns to Kyungsoo. “ _This_ is the bastard you’ve been letting play hard ball with your heart? He really _does_  look like one of the animatronics from Five Nights At Freddy’s when he smiles, even  _more_  so in person.”

Kyungsoo bursts out in laughter and has the nerve to give her a high five. Chanyeol’s mouth drops to the floor and he looks to Jinki for validation that he wasn’t the only one who just heard her roast him to a crisp.

Jinki snorts. He wraps an arm around Irene’s waist, pulling her into his side. “You’ll have to excuse her--she’s like this with everyone. She has this disease that makes her think it’s okay to say whatever comes to her mind no matter how insulting. What she means is, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Right,” Chanyeol says, his eye twitching. “Nice to meet you, too.”

 

Jinki hadn’t lied; Irene isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She kicks Chanyeol’s ass at every game he challenges her to and makes sure to rub it in his face every time.

“How the hell did you do that?” Chanyeol moans in defeat. “I’ve been playing this game since I was in diapers and you just shit all over me.”

Irene winks at him before entering her name at the top of the leaderboard. “I’m a bit of a gamer myself.” She turns her gaze towards Kyungsoo and Jinki, a few feet away, chatting over pretty non alcoholic long island iced teas. And once she’s sure they’re paying her no mind, she inches closer to Chanyeol. “Listen,” she starts, voice hushed. “Soo may have, for no reason inexplicably and unreasonably, shut me out of his life for almost two years--”

Kyungsoo has ears like a bat and interrupts. “You’re blaming _me_? You dropped me like a hot potato for Prince Charming over here.” There’s sarcasm in his tone but plenty of pungency, too.

Irene flips him off and continues. “Like I was saying, I may have missed out on some stuff, but I know when he’s serious about something; he gets this wild _look_ in his eye like he’s seconds away from a sneeze and his cheeks get all puffed up like he needs to take a poop. I’ve never seen it more than when he looks at you.”

Chanyeol lets out a sheepish laugh and scratches the back of his neck.

Irene giggles. She squeezes Chanyeol’s arm. “Really. Thanks for bringing my Baby Boy back to me. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think he would have reached out to me, let alone had it in his gelid heart to ever forgive me. I’m willing to share him with you.”

Chanyeol watches something twinkle in her eyes, intense and honest and it’s obvious she cares about Kyungsoo just as much as he does. It stitches them together, a palpable bond forming between them right then and there.

“Now that  _that_  sappy shit is out of the way,” she sighs, flinging her hair over her shoulder. “Allow me to hand you your ass once more.”

  

They part ways with Irene and Jinki after Chanyeol exchanges numbers with them and hugs them tight enough to leave the pair with a few broken ribs between them. He and Kyungsoo drive back home chattering happily about the night’s events.

Though they’re tired, they head out to meet Jongdae and his girlfriend Wendy, who makes a valiant effort but struggles with the task of matching his energy, for Norabang. It’s a dingy, lifeless place that will no doubt go out of business soon enough, but Jongdae claims that he has a special connection with it because he and Jongin used to frequent it when they were younger.

The owner, a granny with an amazing dye job, sneaks them alcohol. She sets an abundance of beer in front of them, free of charge with a smile and a finger to her lips before disappearing into the hall.

They start off with songs that everyone knows, take turns and collaborate in singing. Soon, the alcohol kicks in hard and Jongdae hogs the mic, makes everyone sit and watch as he screams through depressing ballads.

Wendy has long fallen asleep. Jongdae hasn’t noticed since he started dedicating songs to her in a slur of vomit-inducing declarations of love, and Chanyeol doesn’t have it in him to cue the younger boy in.

Kyungsoo’s head is resting on Chanyeol’s shoulder, Chanyeol’s cheek pressed to the crown of Kyungsoo’s head, their fingers laced together. They observe in subdued horror while Jongdae rocks back and forth on his heels, beer in hand, and belts the lyrics to his fourth song in a row, [Queen’s “Too Much Love Will Kill You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivbO3s1udic)”.

He’s heard the song a thousand times, but for some reason, the lyrics strike Chanyeol like a pistol whip to the spine and he feels a coldness run through him despite the balmy environment.

His mind is reeling. He wonders if the lyrics hold any truth, if feeling too deep feelings could sooner or later wound a person. If one’s heart could ultimately atrophy from a profusion of love. A levy inside him breaks and the flood of feelings he tries so desperately to keep at bay every single time he looks at Kyungsoo bursts forth as Kyungsoo tilts his head up at him. It feels like there’s a fissure in his chest from the force.

The answers to his questions lie therein Kyungsoo’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” Kyungsoo asks, running a thumb across the skin underneath Chanyeol’s eye. “Your eyes look wet.”

“It’s nothing,” Chanyeol fibs. The smile he forces feels like it may split his face. He kisses the worry off Kyungsoo’s lips and loses himself to the guarantee of serenity on his tongue.

“Hey,” Jongdae shouts. “Stop tonguing and validate me!”

 

They make it back in one piece despite the fact that they’re all rather intoxicated and probably shouldn’t be operating heavy machinery. Chanyeol isn’t that reckless that he’d attempt to drive all the way to his hotel and decides to spend the night at Kyungsoo’s house.

Kyungsoo presses his finger to his lips as they walk in the front door; Chanyeol had been doing a (bad) Squidward Tentacles impression at the top of his voice and had forgotten the younger boy still had a curfew. Hand clasped over his mouth, he follows as Kyungsoo sneaks upstairs and toward his mom’s room.

Kyungsoo peeks his head into her room then out quickly. “Looks like my mom’s gone still,” he says and Chanyeol doesn’t know why he’s still whispering. His smile is a sinful glimmer in the dark. “Guess her date went well.”

Chanyeol swallows around the apprehension in his throat.

They get to Kyungsoo’s room and both crawl into his bed without changing into pajamas, exhaustion like barbells tied to their limbs.

Kyungsoo is a clingy drunk; he wraps himself around Chanyeol like a spider monkey with a death grip. His hands start to wander, but Chanyeol doesn’t let them get very far.

“Behave, okay?” Chanyeol urges. “Let’s sleep.”

Griping, Kyungsoo obeys and closes his eyes. Chanyeol listens to his breathing still and just as he thinks the younger boy has fallen asleep, he starts to speak, words propelled through the air on a thick current of lethargy.

“You should just whisk me back to New Jersey* with you. That way, we could fuck legally, right? That way, you wouldn’t be so messed up over this. Over us.”

Chanyeol’s jaw tightens. He tries to think of a response but by the time he finds one, Kyungsoo is already snoring.

Chanyeol maneuvers their bodies into a more comfortable position, careful not to wake Kyungsoo. And it might have been the alcohol talking, but as he looks at Kyungsoo's face, rosy cheeks soft and bloated, Chanyeol  _knows_  the idea Kyungsoo proposed, the one that had been sitting at the back of his own mind in a murky pool of iniquity, is no longer viable.

He’s corrupted him enough.

Chanyeol watches Kyungsoo’s consciousness further suspend and wonders what shapes his dreams are forming. He doesn’t get much sleep himself; his body won’t allow it. To pass time, he googles and sends the lyrics of his favorite song, The Weeknd’s  _Die For You,_  over text to Kyungsoo, snorting sadly at his own lame idea, then lies with heavy thoughts as the night sky melts away.

 

 

Chanyeol gets an hour of sleep at most and rises before the sun has fully started to arch over the trees. Guilt is there when he wakes, hovering above him in wait, teeth bared and salivating at the mouth. He had done nothing to warrant its return. Even so, he can’t shake it.

Kyungsoo is still wound up in slumber’s hold. If he’d discovered Chanyeol might sort of maybe have a thing for watching him sleep, he’d rage.

He wakes and catches Chanyeol staring, his eyes broad, but he doesn’t rage. Instead, he attempts to hide the blush crawling up his face by stretching his arms out in front of him, hitting Chanyeol in the nose on purpose.

Ignoring Chanyeol’s histrionics, Kyungsoo rolls over in search for his phone. “What time is it?” he asks groggily.

“Check your texts,” Chanyeol says.

Kyungsoo scrunches his nose up. “Why?”

“Just hurry up and do it.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes pan over the words and it doesn’t take him long to recognize the song. He chides Chanyeol about how gross he is, whacks him on the shoulder then soothes his fingers over the spot, touch lingering.

“Loser.”

The only thing that slaughters guilt, harpoons it straight between the eyes, is the fit of Kyungsoo’s body against Chanyeol’s. The warmth of his touch. The caress of his fingers against his face as they kiss.

How is it that Kyungsoo is both the cause and the cure?

 

The smell of breakfast lures them from the comfort of Kyungsoo’s bed and Kyungsoo’s mom greets them with open arms. Kyungsoo and his mom are more cordial to each other these days. She’s divorcing Kyungsoo’s step father, neglecting Kyungsoo’s feelings less and smiling more.

They help her set the table and after thanking them, she excuses herself to go fetch something from another room.

Chanyeol almost misses the look Kyungsoo shoots over at him, swift and unholy; it nearly knocks him on his ass as the shorter boy grabs him by the collar, traps him between the kitchen counter and his smaller frame and kisses the breath out of his lungs.

“Wow,” Chanyeol sighs. “What was that for?”

“Just ‘cause.”

Chanyeol runs his fingers through Kyungsoo’s fringe; it’s getting too long. He presses a kiss to his forehead and hugs him tight.

“I’m gonna come out to my mom,” Kyungsoo declares, words muffled into Chanyeol’s chest. Chanyeol recoils to gawk at him.

“What,  _now_?”

“Right now. Why, you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“No, I think it’s an amazing idea. I just never thought you’d be okay with this so soon.”

“Well,” Kyungsoo says, dragging his palms down Chanyeol’s arms. Chanyeol shivers. “I’ve got you to thank for that.”

They get back to setting up so they don’t get caught canoodling--Chanyeol doesn’t think that would be the best way to come out right now. Kyungsoo’s mom returns and after they eat, Chanyeol can tell Kyungsoo is struggling to muster up courage. He grabs Chanyeol's hand but before he can say anything, his mom hugs them both and tells them she knew about them all along.

She breaks out in tears that seem both happy and sorrowful, regret distorting her soft features, and embraces her son once more. Chanyeol’s heart feels ready to burst.

 

Kyungsoo invites Jongdae and Sehun over for some last minute catching up. They’re supposed to be scheduling their next group chat (Sehun finally added him back), but for the most part, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol just end up grossing Jongdae out with their cuddling. The time for Chanyeol to leave quickly approaches and they all say their heartfelt goodbyes as Kyungsoo walks him to the door.

Chanyeol can tell his boyfriend is biting back tears for his sake and Chanyeol thinks he’s one of the strongest people he’s ever met. “It’d better not take you another half a year to get back over here. If it does, you will literally kill me and I swear I’ll sue you for gross criminal negligence from beyond the fucking grave.”

Laughter resonating, Chanyeol hugs Kyungsoo as tight as he can.

 

 

No matter how unsightly his deed or habits, Chanyeol believes good works will grant him access to heaven’s pearly gates in the long run. He’s done his best to be a good person in general, has always held doors open for strangers and smiled at babies, made sure to pet every dog he came across and gave to the less fortunate not just because of his religion, but because every human should practice compassion.

Now, he amps it up, donates to a charity like he does every year, gives two times the money than usual. Dedicates himself to the task of studying and being less dependent on his vices. He even joins the Catholic club at school.

He thinks every single person in this place is tacky, what with their shapeless church clothes and horrendous haircuts. They all smell like dead routines, chastity, and lost dreams. During discussion, he doesn’t have any input to give though he knows the church and its principles like the backs of his hands. He can’t seem to find his voice.

The people here are serious about their faith, much more so than the boys at school ever were and Chanyeol feels out of place. He walks out in the middle of group prayer for his first cigarette in a few days and never goes back.

The smoke he pollutes the air with dances from his lungs in a taunting manner, seems to spell out that his damnation is self-inflicted.

 

 

His ninetieth birthday rolls around and Chanyeol thinks he’s too young to feel this haggard. He doesn’t throw a party, for once, has no desire for revelry. Instead, he lets Junmyeon and a few other friends treat him to dinner in the form of pounds of take-out and gets drunk on cheap beer earlier than he should. Straight afterwards, he buries himself in his bed, responds to birthday wishes on social media robotically and sleeps the remainder of his birthday away.

Summer releases him from the hold of Freshman year in a flash. He’s not as ecstatic about it as his friends are. He knows his scores could have been more immaculate and his pride has never been this low, this out of sight.

Chanyeol packs up immediately; he doesn’t stick around for Moonbyul’s rave, the one she’d been hyping up since spring. With a heavy heart, he boards a plane and heads to Wisconsin to stay with his dad.

To relax and gather his thoughts.

 

In a matter of days, Kyungsoo is off to Korea to stay at his aunt and uncle’s house for the remainder of the summer. Chanyeol doesn’t know why Kyungsoo doesn’t just tell his mother he wants to stay home since he often gripes about how trips to Korea are a pain in the ass and flying often makes him sick. But Chanyeol surmises it’s because of his cousin who got into a car accident that rendered him a paraplegic a few years ago. Chanyeol thinks Kyungsoo’s heart is too big for someone so tiny.

 

Chanyeol’s dad invites Kyungsoo over for dinner and he shows up with a fresh undercut, his hair jelled back, eyes clear and bright. He’s wearing a bomber jacket with the word  _Starboy_  embroidered on the chest and the Tightest Leather Pants Ever and Chanyeol tries not to stare at his ass as he watches the younger boy make small talk with his dad at the front door.

“Hey, Shorty,” Chanyeol says, walking over. He shoves his hands in his back pockets, unable to help the way his eyes rake up and down Kyungsoo’s body. He smells like leather and the Dior cologne Chanyeol had bought him and Chanyeol’s butt cheeks have never clenched harder.

Kyungsoo’s smile is wide. “Hey, Loser.”

There’s a beat of awkwardness as they stare at each other until Kyungsoo closes the space between them and hugs Chanyeol, kisses him square on the mouth in front of his dad.

Chanyeol recoils and looks to his dad who, to his surprise, isn’t wearing his usual uniform look, instead has a smile itching at his lips as he observes at the two of them. Chanyeol clears his throat and leads Kyungsoo by the hand to the dinner table.

“Let’s eat!”

 

Dinner goes relatively smoothly. Chanyeol only craves immediate death on a couple occasions because his dad says the most embarrassing things and Kyungsoo absorbs it all like an evil sponge.

“Yeah, so, he swore he was a super hero as a kid,” Father Park continues. “He had this blanket he carried everywhere--I’m telling you, he was  _absolutely_  detachable from this thing to the point where he wouldn’t even let me wash it; it would often be covered in old spaghetti-os and chocolate but he insisted on wearing it as a cape to fight crimes around the block. He couldn’t do that without wanting to wear his briefs over his pants, too. I would always tell him “no” because that’s just not acceptable in public, right? Ah, I might even have a picture.”

Chanyeol groans. “Oh, my  _God,_ dad. Don’t--”

His dad digs out his wallet and retrieves a picture of Chanyeol, that horrid blanket tied around his neck and his arms in the air like a dumbass.

Kyungsoo belly-laughs. Chanyeol face palms so hard he sees stars when he opens his eyes. “Ugh, why do you even have that on you? It’s  _weird_.”

Father Park smiles, his countenance softening. “You can have it if you want, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo takes the photo with pleasure. “I’m  _so_  framing this.”

 

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dish washer after dinner and Chanyeol won’t stop pouting until Kyungsoo apologizes to him, dammit. Kyungsoo flicks soapy water in his face and Chanyeol reacts like he’s just poured acid in his eye.

Chanyeol doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kyungsoo laugh this much. He pretends to be mad so Kyungsoo will cling to him and it’s a success, his damp hands circling Chanyeol’s bicep. “You encouraged him,” Chanyeol accuses. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I  _am_  on your side, stupid. I just want your daddy to love me as much as you do.”

Chanyeol curls his top lip up. “Don’t say daddy. That word is cancelled. Unless it’s me you’re referring to.”

Kyungsoo bursts into a pretty peal of laughter and gives Chanyeol’s arm a stroke that makes Chanyeol inhale sharply. “A uniform kink  _and_ a daddy kink? You, sir, are depraved.”

 

After Kyungsoo leaves, Chanyeol spends the summer working a retail job that’s less than fabulous. He isn’t made for customer service. He thinks if he has to smile through one more person throwing a hissy fit over the thread count of comforters, he’ll drink bleach. He doesn’t need the extra cash, either, but it makes him feel normal for once and he’s able to keep his mind clear for the most part. He reconnects with some old acquaintances that stuck around and attend local colleges but avoids their parties. He deals with Baekhyun and Sehun’s assailments when he turns down their invitation to accompany them to one of those dreary eighteen-and-up clubs because  _that’s fuckin’ lame_.

He’s supposed to be meeting up with Jongdae for coffee at his house, but as he rings the doorbell, it’s Jongin who answers, tanner than ever and absolutely incandescent.

Jongin flashes that signature lopsided smile that used to make Chanyeol go all wobbly in the knees and reaches out to hug him.

“Wanna play b-ball and smoke some weed?” Jongin asks. “For old time’s sakes.”

 

Jongin kicks Chanyeol’s ass at basketball even though Chanyeol has a couple of inches on him. He cheats. Chanyeol  _swears_  he cheats.

After Chanyeol has had enough humiliation, they crack open a six pack and sit and watch Jongdae attempt to teach himself how to skateboard and fail in the process. Chanyeol didn’t know it was possible for one person to eat so much dirt.

Jongin rolls the best blunts; he always manages to get his hands on, quote, the dankest shit, and isn’t scared to brag about it. He used to be somewhat of Chanyeol’s supplier back in the day. Chanyeol wills away thoughts of the night Jongin had spooned ecstasy into his mouth with that sinful tongue of his, desperate and eager to “try new things”.

“You swine,” Jongdae whines, hobbling over on a scraped up leg. “Pass that shit.”

“Didn’t know you got down like that,” Chanyeol comments as he watches Jongdae take a hit. Jongdae shrugs and looks at the blunt like it’s sprouted a limb or six.

Jongin cackles. “Ever since he started getting pussy on the regular, he thinks he’s cool.”

Jongdae blows smoke in Jongin’s face. Jongin coughs and Jongdae holds up devil’s horns before adjusting his snapback and sitting down.

Jongin is back home for a week. He brags about his scholarship with flourish, blathers on about how  _stoked_ he is to maybe get scouted next year, and boasts about the fact that he’s fucking a “dime piece” named Krystal (and great, now Jongdae’s screeching Amin _é_ ’s  _Caroline_  at the top of his lungs). He’s teeming with elation and Chanyeol is genuinely happy for him.

“So,” Jongin starts after cracking open his third beer. “How are you and Kyungsoo Do? I  _totally_  called that, by the way.”

Chanyeol raises a cynical eyebrow at him. “Did you, now?”

“Yeah, I mean, during the ski trip all those hot girls were eyeing you, yet you take a four-eyed frosh back to your room?”

“The  _cutest_  four-eyed frosh,” Chanyeol corrects. He can’t help how dreamy and love sick he sounds. “We’re good. We hit a rough patch before, y’know, but…we got through it. He’s _so_ fucking amazing.”

“You got it bad, huh?”

Chanyeol smiles.

“Not for nothing, man, but it’s super admirable what you’re doing with the whole celibacy thing. I know  _I_  could never do it.”

Chanyeol shoots daggers at Jongdae and Jongdae spooks (he looks like a cat with its fur puffed out). “What the hell? You told him? Kyungsoo shared that with you in confidence, I’m sure.”

“Daedae doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut,” says Jongin. “He tells me _everything_.”

“It’s one sided, though.” Jongdae sings. He doesn’t seem apologetic in the least as he looks between Jongin and Chanyeol. “Why didn’t you ever tell me the two of ya’ll fucked,  _Nini_?”

Chanyeol watches beer spew out of Jongin’s nostrils.

He gets it _all_ over the spliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -irene and jongdae are hands down my fave characters to write  
> -*in the state of new jersey, sixteen is the age of consent and thirteen to fifteen-year-olds can have sex with people up to five years older than them bc of the romeo and juliet law. this bit of info was originally supposed to be added into the dialogue, but it was giving me a headache so i omitted it.  
> -chapter title from oh wonder's [body gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vppNNO7nDuk)  
> -/bangs on keyboard a lá drew monson/ leave me a comment i'm VERY lonely


	3. Move One Inch At A Time (You'll Be Just Fine)

Sophomore year speeds by on an eight-wheeler wielding a blowtorch through the mud but Chanyeol assails his studies with repurposed fortitude. His grades are more flawless than ever. For once, he doesn’t dread finals week.

He and Kyungsoo are saying “I love you” multiple times on a daily basis, as natural as breathing, as vital as water. And for the first time in a while, Chanyeol manages to elude guilt; it’s nowhere to be found. Not even a trace of it lingers.

Dare he even say he’s happy?

Junior year proves to be more freeing. Chanyeol is able to take all the classes he enjoys and discovers his niche. On top of that, he decides to re-come out as bisexual, after a great deal of meditative thought and help from Kyungsoo.

“Be true to yourself,” the younger boy had told him simply. “You’re the only one who can do so.”

He gets tongue tied along the way, but he manages to power through it, his palms drenched in sweat and his body stiff. Hwasa is the first to hug him in congratulations, apology in the form of a chaste kiss pressed to his cheek.

None of his friends rebuke him.

 

 

His disdain for social media seemed to die a while ago, but nevertheless, Chanyeol is staggered when Kyungsoo decides to start up a YouTube channel. Chanyeol is glad at the same time though, because the younger boy’s personality and confidence are shining through the cracks in his timidity more brilliantly than ever, so much so, it’s blinding. Kyungsoo saved up for some fancy lighting with help from his mom. A gift in the form of a new camera from Baekhyun and Sehun for his seventeenth birthday came afterwards and Kyungsoo had just been messing around with it at first, but Sehun urged him to seriously give it a whirl.

He doesn’t have many videos up so far, just two acoustic covers and Chanyeol chokes back tears to the best of his ability as he watches Kyungsoo croon the lyrics to [Tamia's 'Officially Missing You'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeK1zQFJtXE). He loses it when he hears him sing [Jill Scott’s 'He Loves Me' ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0nRWHh6yKI)(he knew he didn’t stand a chance when Kyungsoo opened the video saying "this one’s dedicated to my boyfriend").

“You’re amazing,” he gushes to Kyungsoo over the phone. “Your honeyed tones are like none other, really. You break down my walls with the strength of your love.”

Kyungsoo’s laughter has the ability to heal, of that Chanyeol is certain. “Those are Whitney Houston lyrics.”

“Hey, um, you should be proud of me. Up until like, a year ago, I thought it was Celine Dion who sang ‘I Have Nothing'.”

“ _Loser_.”

 

 

His friends insist to meet Kyungsoo with every other breath they take; at first, Chanyeol is wary but he caves in time, defenseless to their badgering and pays for Kyungsoo’s flight. Though he’s nervous of impending judgment, he receives none of it; his friends all love Kyungsoo immediately upon meeting him.

They’re all loud cheers and cheeky grins as he and Kyungsoo amble through the doors of the Slam Poetry event. Chanyeol is meant to perform a piece he’s been toiling over for months at the end of the night, and wills away a case of jitters he feels coming onto him.

He and his friends all gather around a table. They take turns gushing over Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo is imbued with all of the attention, beaming and vibrant.  

“You have such good taste, Chanyeol,” Wheein comments as she sets a glass of soda down in front of Kyungsoo. She squeezes his cheek like a neglected grandma. “He’s cute. He’s _so_ cute. But handsome too.”

Chanyeol watches Moonbyul’s features elongate, realization striking her like a bus and _oh, shit_. He was dreading this.

“Wait! You! You’re the kid from--” Chanyeol pinches Moonbyul’s ear so hard she screams. He pelts a glare at her that says _don’t_ and she deflates and wires her mouth shut. Chanyeol changes the subject but doesn’t miss the wounded glance he gets from Kyungsoo.

It makes him waste time being uptight, brooding like a sour child and he forgets momentarily that he’s dating the most Amazing Boy in the world. The feeling passes, replaced by the steady thrum of anticipation as his turn draws nearer. The second his name is called, he bolts to his feet and his stomach lurches so badly he almost doubles over.

“You got this,” Kyungsoo reassures him, hand at the small of Chanyeol’s back to steady him.

Chanyeol nods. “I _got_ this.”

Chanyeol delivers his piece on woman’s rights issues with consummate skill, smoothly tackles heavy subjects with just the right amount of humor sprinkled in. He manages to make several people cry and laugh within the span of seven minutes and his friends roar for him; the crowd is the loudest he’s heard all night. But the smile Kyungsoo gives him is the biggest reward of all.

Elation like fire in his veins, Chanyeol heads back towards the table. That’s when a blonde girl with immense blue eyes blocks his way.

“How do you do that?” she asks, bubbly and too close for comfort. “The way you lace words together, the way you paint pictures with your thoughts so effortlessly is just like, _beyond_ amazing. We should go grab a coffee sometime so I could pick your that sexy brain of yours.”

Chanyeol cringes from the amount of desperation this stranger is exuding. He conceals his discomfort with laughter. “Thanks, and I’m flattered, but my boyfriend is sitting right over there, so...” He points to Kyungsoo and her eyes follow his finger, her smile drooping when Kyungsoo waves over at them. She waves back, nods her understanding and plods away.

Chanyeol rejoins the group, remaining modest as his friends adorn him with compliments. The feeling of Kyungsoo’s hand on his thigh underneath the table startles him; the pressure of his fingertips is barely there as they rub circles into his flesh, inching closer to his crotch. All of a sudden, Kyungsoo presses the heel of his palm to the front of Chanyeol’s pants and the amount of pleasure that washes over him from such a slight touch is overwhelming; Chanyeol has to fight the urge to let his eyes roll back. And though this bold side of Kyungsoo has always been _such_ a turn on, he grabs Kyungsoo’s wrist to stop him from making any further advances so that none of his friends suspect anything. Chanyeol bites his lip and tries to act normal as Kyungsoo nonchalantly taps at his iphone’s keyboard. Seconds later, Chanyeol’s own phone vibrates. He chokes on saliva when he reads the new text.

**Saw the way that blonde bitch was eyeing you. How pathetic. Bet she’d get a real kick in knowing the thought of me sucking you off right under this table where anyone could see turns you on just as much as it turns me on**

Every neuron in Chanyeol’s brain wants him to scream.

Moonbyul kills the moment. “Who’s ready for the beach?” she asks.

Before the poetry event, the group had packed overnight bags and loaded them into Moonbyul’s jeep. Queen of Planning Everything, she had, for an eternity, been insisting that they all take a road trip to a hotel off a beach for a bonfire and some bonding.

She turns to Chanyeol. “Can’t wait to repurpose the _pounds_ of extra glow sticks I have left over because you skipped out on my rave, Park.”

It’s been more than a year but she’s still pestering him. “Let me _live_!”

 

The fire is high and dancing into the night sky, tips of the flames crackling and splitting into gorgeous flecks of gold. Chanyeol helps Wheein and Yongsun fill balloons with helium and glowsticks (though he’s pretty sure it isn’t the safest combination) and ties them to a log for added light. 

Jooheon thinks playing tic tac toe on the sand with the glowsticks is a good idea until boredom overcomes him in all of five minutes.

“Fuck this,” Jooheon says. He’s just lost his second game to Hwasa. “We’re adults, dammit!” He looks at Kyungsoo, quiet and tucked under Chanyeol’s arm. “Oh, except for you, Kyungsoo. Do you want me to get you like, a baby bottle and fill it with liquor like my mom did when I was a toddler--” Before Jooheon can finish, Chanyeol pushes him onto his ass directly into a hollow of wet sand.

 

They all sit in a circle around the fire. By the second time the bottle of whiskey Jooheon had suggested they pass around makes it to him, Chanyeol knows he should have never agreed to play this game; he hasn’t been able to use the opposite side of his card at all. He’s sure Jooheon is doing this on purpose to expose him as the slut of the group and now, not only does Kyungsoo know Chanyeol has done filthy shit from a scale of fucking a girl on his best friend’s bed (Baekhyun still has no idea) to being fisted (it was _one_ time), but that he’s fucked people without knowing their name, fucked a classmate’s mom once, _and_ had a threesome. His sins sound even more atrocious being strung together and aired out like this. But Kyungsoo doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as Chanyeol is; the other boy is just smirking at him, dark liquor between his fingers.

“Never have I ever,” Jooheon starts. Chanyeol has made a silent promise with himself to get up and knee Jooheon in the nuts if he says _one_ more thing aimed at him. “Had sex in a church.”

Chanyeol’s entire body freezes up. “Oh, come _on_!”

Boldly, Kyungsoo flips his card around to the “I have” side and a choir of gasps rings through the air.

Jooheon acts like it’s the wildest thing he’s ever heard, hands held over his mouth in shock. “I fuckin’ knew it, man! You two _look_ like you’re into some freaky shit.”

With a groan, Chanyeol throws his card into the fire. “Enough of this,” he says, standing to his feet. “Where’s the fucking _kush_?”

 

Once he’s through inspecting them like a wary baby pit-bull, Kyungsoo accepts the weed brownies Yongsun had cooked up. He looks like he’s in love with Yongsun after one bite and Chanyeol is jealous for only a second, too busy trying to keep Kyungsoo from devouring the whole damn plate.

While everyone else starts singing along to Top 40s hits, bound to attract wolves, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo decide to sit near the tide and stare out into the ocean. Holding each other close, they marvel the large expanse; lose themselves to the spellbinding dance of the waves. To the way the radiance of the moon makes the water weep and glitter, the push and pull of the tide that becomes in sync with their hearts. The beauty of it all.

“Do you ever think about how wild it is that the ocean is so vast?” Kyungsoo asks and Chanyeol trembles; he doesn’t remember when Kyungsoo’s voice got this deep. “How many species of sea creatures there are? How many more man have yet to discover? How the Milky Way is only one out of, like, what, one hundred _billion_ galaxies in the foreseeable universe? And out of all the species and life forms that exist, we managed to find each other? How there’s so many things I’m ignorant to, how many things I’ll _never_ ever know, could never hope to learn even in multiple lifetimes, but I’m certain of the fact that I’m meant to love you here and now?”

“You sound like a bad soap opera. Your ratings are down and you’re being cancelled soon.”

“I’m speaking my mind.”

Chanyeol snorts so hard actual snot leaps from his nostrils and Kyungsoo is looking at him like he’s a diaper filled with fresh shit. Wiping at his nose with his sleeve, Chanyeol laughs. “The _weed_ is speaking your mind.” He holds Kyungsoo closer. “Love you, too, though.”

 

Jooheon proposes a stupid hiding game slash scare competition and makes everyone get into two groups, boys vs. girls. The first three people out have to run into the ocean naked as a punishment. What’s more, the winners get to choose two people they want to post an embarrassing tweet or picture from their social media accounts (Chanyeol has no idea why anyone ever feeds Jooheon’s eccentric ideas).

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol end up getting caught within the first five minutes of starting the game. Hwasa and Wheein scare them successfully when they discover the two of them making out by the rocks (Kyungsoo tried to scale the side of the tallest rock, almost broke his neck and fell, but Chanyeol caught him at the last minute. Chanyeol has no doubt in his mind that it was just an excuse for the younger boy to get him to hold him close again).

They trudge back to the group. Number One Loser Junmyeon looks humiliated, a timid kitten as he cowers at the front of the throng of girls.

The girls look ravenous as they whoop and whistle. “Clothes off, boys!” hoots Hwasa.

They’re all chanting “take it off’ now and Chanyeol looks down at Kyungsoo with concern-filled eyes. “Listen, baby, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want--”

“I got this.”

Chanyeol tries not to stare as Kyungsoo unbuttons his flannel. He succeeds for but a moment and ends up entranced by the swivel of Kyungsoo’s hips and the plush of his thighs as he steps out of his underwear. As a result, Chanyeol falls on his face stepping out of his own pants, ankle catching on his belt. He’ll be tasting sand for years. Kyungsoo laughs at him instead of helping him up and Chanyeol is stunned by the glow of his skin in the moonlight.

On the count of three, they run out into the ocean, free as the waves that hug their bodies, exhilaration like the salt that clings to their skin.

And as Chanyeol comes up for air, there’s a pang in his chest; he catches Kyungsoo’s gaze and it’s like the world’s secrets are being exposed to him at once in a tongue he can’t decode. And suddenly, he understands the revelation Kyungsoo had had earlier—everything, in that moment, somehow feels out of reach yet perfectly clear. Though Chanyeol’s sure of nothing, his love is overwhelmingly lucid, luminous as the stars, boundless as the cosmos. He grins and swims toward Kyungsoo, wraps him in his embrace and kisses him winded.

They run hand in hand back to the shore and only Kyungsoo’s pile of clothes remains. Chanyeol searches the premises for his garments, but comes up empty handed. Dressed in just his boxers and flannel, Kyungsoo lends Chanyeol his pants (they fit Chanyeol like capris, his calves in a chokehold).

“Which one of you shits hid my clothes?”

Moonbyul’s cackle fills the air like a witch in the night. Chanyeol squats for Kyungsoo to jump on his back and he gives him a piggy back ride as they run towards the sound and apprehend the culprit.

 

Junmyeon answers Chanyeol’s video chat in a facemask that looks like something out of a b-horror film. Chanyeol screams bloody murder. He’s sure the entire hall has heard him.

“Don’t jump-scare me like that,” Chanyeol says, a hand over his thumping heart. “You look like a gay serial killer.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Come back to mine and Kyungsoo’s room for a couple of hours.”

“Is this your way of asking me for a threesome?”

“Not looking like _that_.”

“Well, jokes on you ‘cause I’m beat,” Junmyeon yawns. “Why do you need me, anyway? Do you not trust yourself to be alone with him or something?”

Chanyeol bites his nails.

“Why didn’t you just book separate rooms?”

“I thought he would be worn out by now but he’s _not_. He just got in the shower after me and as I was leaving the bathroom, he gave me this _look_ like I was a piece of meat. Just a fucking…huge fucking fillet mignon on stilts. He’s gonna unhinge his jaw and devour me whole.” Whimpering, Chanyeol shutters and Junmyeon laughs at him. “ _Please_.”

“Alright,” Junmyeon relents. “Give me a minute.”

 

Junmyeon arrives like a cavalry officer in a three hundred dollar robe and Chanyeol can breathe again. Kyungsoo gets out of the shower and frowns upon seeing Junmyeon and Chanyeol offers them both beers; he’s already knocked two back in anxiety.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” Kyungsoo asks, sweeping his wet bangs out of his eyes. “I forgot to pack pajamas.”

Chanyeol knows for sure there was an extra robe in the bathroom. “There’s another robe in the—“

“It smelled weird. Like it had been used already.” Kyungsoo drops his towel right where he stands, naked glory on display for the second time that night. Chanyeol emits a sound like a strangulated sheep and squeezes his eyes shut. “So, can I borrow a shirt or not?”

Eyes still closed, Chanyeol gets up. He spills beer all over the rug on the journey to his tote bag and curses. Blocking out Junmyeon’s mockery as he steps directly into the puddle, foot sticky as it creates a squelching sound, he all but throws the shirt at Kyungsoo. Anything to cover him up.

Kyungsoo thanks him and pulls the Nirvana tee over his head. It swims on him, hangs off his shoulders and comes down to his knees and _god how cute_.

Chanyeol’s heart rate climbs like it’s scaling the fucking Himalaya.

 

Chanyeol attempts to stall, updates Junmyeon and Kyungsoo on his new favorite Netflix series and goes into detail about the plot and other bits he knows neither of them care about. Kyungsoo is especially unfazed and scrutinizes Chanyeol the entire time; the younger boy sees right through him.

Even though he knows he’s already seen it, Chanyeol shows Junmyeon the picture Moonbyul had posted on Facebook before she had returned Chanyeol’s stolen clothes. It’s of Kyungsoo and him, forced to pose with their fingers up each other’s noses, bottom halves cropped out with ‘losers’ as the caption.

“Wheein tweeted “I like it when daddy shoves grapes up my ass!” from my twitter account,” Junmyeon reveals. “She’s so weird.”

“I’m sure all five of your followers are _very_ concerned,” Chanyeol says.

Kyungsoo snorts, nudging Chanyeol in the side as a reprimand and Junmyeon looks scandalized. He peers over at the time and heaves a sigh. Nearly an hour has passed since he arrived and Chanyeol can tell Junmyeon is getting antsy from all of the tension in the air. He tries to communicate telepathically that he _needs_ Junmyeon to stick it out a little longer, but to no use. “I’m gonna go,” Junmyeon announces, heading to the door. “See you guys tomorrow. It was nice meeting you finally, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo waves his goodbye to Junmyeon and just like that the two of them are alone again.

Silence is thick in the air.

“What was that about?” Kyungsoo challenges, scooting closer to Chanyeol on the bed.

Chanyeol gulps. “What do you mean?”

Fire kindles in Kyungsoo’s eyes. “Inviting Junmyeon here to stall? Busting out more beer to thwart me? Sad. Not to mention entirely unsuccessful.”

“That’s not what--”

Kyungsoo pinches the side of his neck. Chanyeol yowls in fright.

“Okay, okay! You got me. What do you want me to say?”

“Don’t say anything,” Kyungsoo orders, his voice dropping an octave. There’s a flash of something wicked in his eyes and Chanyeol’s muscles clench as Kyungsoo reaches over to loosen the belt on his robe. The fabric falls open, revealing his bare chest and boxers underneath and Kyungsoo’s eyes begin to rove, rapacious of the sight in front of him.

“W-what are you d-oing?” Chanyeol stutters. 

Kyungsoo shushes him. “Don’t move.”

Goosebumps flaring up on his skin, Chanyeol obeys.

Kyungsoo crawls closer. He nudges Chanyeol’s legs open, stopping for a moment to leer at his package and then gets to his knees in front of Chanyeol’s spread legs. Slowly, he bends forward until his mouth is mere inches from Chanyeol’s cock, hands gripping at his thighs.

“Can you see my ass from the mirror?” he drawls, breath hot as it ghosts over the thin layer of fabric.

“Wh--” Chanyeol glances up at the mirror. He gets once look at Kyungsoo’s naked posterior in the reflection before he tears his eyes away.

Kyungsoo digs his fingers into Chanyeol’s thigh. “Look,” he commands. “Can. You. See?”

Chanyeol lifts his eyes back towards the reflection like the mirror might steal his soul if he stares too long and it’s like someone strikes a match in his chest. His heart rate spikes, eyes zeroing in on the movement of Kyungsoo’s fluttering hole. “Y-yes,” Chanyeol says, voice slight.

“I was wearing a butt plug earlier,” Kyungsoo admits, large eyes shining. “The stretch was good but I took it out because I knew you’d scold me if you knew. And ever since, my ass has been clenching desperately around air, so tired of being so full of _nothing_. It’s unbearable. Honestly, you’d be appalled if you could see into my mind for even a fraction of a moment.”

“Soo,” Chanyeol chokes out. His hands tremble as they grip for purchase in the sheets. It feels like he’s falling.

“I’m not gonna try anything more; just hear me out. I’ve wanted your cock inside me from day one. I think about it all the time--you filling me up. It’s all I think about, at school, at home, in bible class, in church, on public transport, _everywhere_. And every time you tell me “no”, it makes me want it that much more. I try to be good, I really do. But it’s _hard_.”

Chanyeol’s cock twitches in the confines of his boxers and Kyungsoo follows the movement with his eyes. He grins up at him and Chanyeol tries to think of dead puppies and other tragedies to keep himself from springing a boner. It’s not working.

“I always wondered--why didn’t you fuck me when we were both in school? It was obvious you wanted it back then, too, what with you telling me how much you wanted to bend me over nearly _every_ single time my mouth was on you.”

Chanyeol’s breathing is ragged. “I didn’t…want you to regret it. Anal sex isn't just physically draining but emotionally draining as well. You might not even like it as much as you think you will.”

Kyungsoo darts his tongue out to wet his lips, plushy flesh glistening as he smirks and heat pools in Chanyeol’s stomach. “How is it that you manage to make even such a depressing thing sound so damn _hot_?”

Kyungsoo inches closer. Chanyeol halts his actions with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s true,” Chanyeol offers. “Some guys don't even _do_ anal.”

“Okay,” Kyungsoo lilts, voice full of skepticism. “But even straight guys like getting their asses toyed with. Mentioning toys again, you should know--I own them all. Every type and size you can imagine. Like I said, they feel nice but probably not as good as the real thing, right? Even though you told me I couldn’t years back, I still think about sending you pictures, giving you a peak of what I look like while I’m getting off thinking about you, bent over and stuffed full--”

“ _Kyungsoo_ ,” Chanyeol begs, his breath thin but his tone stern.

“At least let me see it--”

Chanyeol’s grip tightens on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “ _Enough_.”

Heaving a sigh, Kyungsoo straitens his spine and sits on his haunches. “I’m not a fucking baby anymore.”

“You sure still act like one,” Chanyeol retorts, laughing dryly. He ties his robe closed.

“That isn’t fair. I’m nearly eighteen! Throw caution to the wind! Forget your morality and get off your high horse for one fucking second! I _want_ to! _So bad_. It’s legal.”

“That’s not the point. You’re intoxicated. The moment isn’t right.”

“Right.” Limbs weighed down with dejection, Kyungsoo crawls off the bed and walks over to his overnight bag. He pulls on the pajama pants he’d claimed to have neglected and collects his things. “Okay. I’m gonna go sleep in Moonbyul and Yongsun’s room.”

 

Chanyeol can’t help but think about how easy it would have been, to give Kyungsoo what he wanted—what they both so desperately need. He makes a beeline to the bathroom and jerks off angry and quick to the thought, to the echo of all the filthy things Kyungsoo had revealed. A siren in his head.

As he comes messy into his fist, guilt resurfaces, trickles through him like the slow drip of an old faucet.

Bound to leave corrosion and mold.

 

The next morning, everyone regroups for breakfast looking like death; some of their friends are absent, most likely sleeping in or treating their hangovers, but Kyungsoo is bright eyed and bushy tailed. Chanyeol is bemused by his behavior.

The younger boy is talking to Yongsun over juice and pancakes and doesn’t see Chanyeol until he taps him on the shoulder from behind, eyes broad as he turns around to look up at him.

“Hey,” Chanyeol mumbles, averting his gaze. “I just wanted to--”

Pushing himself off of his chair abruptly, Kyungsoo grabs Chanyeol by the hand and leads him away from the group without a word as to where they’re going. Chanyeol follows, a sinking feeling in his gut at the thought that Kyungsoo may want to chew him out over last night’s events, his guilt welling up and bubbling over. A scathing little voice in the back of his head mutters, “he knows _exactly_ what you got up to when he left”, but when they get to a vacant hall, Kyungsoo just double checks that no one is in sight and presses a kiss against Chanyeol’s jaw.

“Why the hell does Moonbyul think I’m your _cousin_?”

 

 

 

“He did _what_?!”

Chanyeol’s certain he’d interrupted _something_ ; in desperation, he’d called Baekhyun for advice on Facetime a total of six times consecutively. His friend had answered with mussed hair, his face flushed, his lips wet and chest heaving. Somewhere off screen, Sehun groans in annoyance.

“I thought he would have told you guys this by now.”

Baekhyun climbs off of Sehun and lies down on the bed next to him so they’re both in frame. Sehun looks just as wrecked and ten times as perturbed. Baekhyun isn’t fazed by the interruption though, just thoroughly interested in the story Chanyeol had told of the previous night’s escapades. “No, because your horny little jailbait boyfriend is a fucking traitor; he keeps all the juicy, meaty bits to himself!” And if there’s one thing Baekhyun cares about more than his own sex life, it’s the sex life of others. “Then what’d you do?”

“…Nothing.”

“Seriously? Brave.”

“How many times have you gotten off thinking about it, though?” Sehun interjects.

Chanyeol pauses to think. “…Today?”

Sehun cackles. “See, he’s not brave. He just knows how to hide the fact that he’s a degenerate these days way better than you, Baek. You should try harder.”

“If I _did_ do that, you’d cry about it worse than you do when my lips are around your co--”

“I’m hanging up now!”

The mental image is one Chanyeol could have done without.

 

 

 

Sehun and Baekhyun’s engagement comes as a whirlwind wrapped in an elegant bow. Chanyeol gawks at the invitation to their engagement party for a full five minutes after he reads it, not because it’s hard to believe but because Baekhyun’s been asking Sehun to marry him since they were in middle school. Chanyeol made them promise he’d be the first to know if they actually decided to go through with it.

Clearly, he isn’t.

Kyungsoo is there when Baekhyun and Sehun answer his Facetime request. His hair is fluffy like its just finished drying and he’s shamefaced, a pout sitting on his lips. As he should be, Chanyeol thinks. (Chanyeol also thinks he looks cute as hell).

“What the shit?” Chnayeol says, gaping between Sehun and Baekhyun’s smug faces. “Is this a prank?”

“Not this time!” Baekhyun grins broadly and flashes the ring on his finger. When Sehun doesn’t immediately do the same, Baekhyun grabs his fiancé’s hand to show off the matching piece of jewelry.

“They’re actually doing this,” Kyungsoo rasps in disbelief.

Chanyeol scoffs. “You, be quiet. You’re dead to me for keeping this a secret! How long have you known?”

Kyungsoo shrinks in on himself. “A month and a half?”

“What the _shit_.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on him,” Sehun chastises. “We _wanted_ it to be a surprise.”

“Mission accomplished,” Chanyeol says. Baekhyun insults his intelligence and he can’t help but chuckle. “Wow. The final strides towards ultimate Gaydom. I’m elated for you guys.”

Baekhyun grins. “Good. You two queens have a month to decide on a romantic song to sing at our engagement party. It needs to make me cry. I’m depending on it!”

 

The decision to sing _He Loves Me_ with Kyungsoo’s arrangement from his YouTube cover is instant. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo meet up again in NYC to hang out and do some shopping, rent their suits for the party. Chanyeol swipes his black card as readily as stretching a limb and offers to buy Kyungsoo everything and anything he looks at for more than a beat. They get to the changing room to try on suits and Kyungsoo addresses that he doesn’t like being coddled with material things (“I’m no epicurean”), urges that Chanyeol’s time is far more valuable than anything his money could buy. He insists on renting his own suit and Chanyeol relents.

Not even ten minutes later, Kyungsoo is begging Chanyeol to buy him ice cream. Though he knows Chanyeol is trying to stay away from sweets after his slip up with the weed brownies, he sulks and begs, fingers tugging at Chanyeol’s sleeve. The little victory dance he does once Chanyeol caves is uncharacteristic of him, but Chanyeol finds it adorable and laughs, anyway.

They pass a pet store with a trio of Labrador puppies in the window and Chanyeol runs up and puts his hands on the glass. They remind him a bit of him, Baekhyun and Sehun as kids, all roughhousing with one another, halcyon memories washing gently over him. He coos at the tiny dogs, his tail wagging more than theirs and just as he turns around to ask Kyungsoo if he thinks the puppies are cute, he catches his boyfriend ogling him. The younger boy is _totally_ eye-fucking Chanyeol whilst he licks at his vanilla soft serve and Kyungsoo’s previous words race through Chanyeol’s mind so violently his breath escapes him.

_I think about it all the time--you filling me up. It’s all I think about, at school, at home, in bible class, in church, on public transport, everywhere._

Is he thinking about it even now…?

Chanyeol turns around fully to face Kyungsoo and as if reading his thoughts, Kyungsoo’s eyes slip toward his crotch.

“Shameless,” Chanyeol monotones, ignoring the way his cheeks sizzle. “The puppies are dishonored.”

Kyungsoo smirks.

 

Baekhyun and Sehun host their engagement party at a lounge back home. It’s an intimate space with an elegant vibe, stylish aesthetic and minimal décor; the theme is wine red and white with glam gold accents. Roses sit in square and rectangular vases of varying sizes on each table, candles dotted throughout, saturating the entire room in a romantic glow.

Their parents are teary eyed as they accept gifts from the horde of family and friends who have come out to support them.

The guests settle in and Mr. and Mrs. Oh make a corny announcement and show an even cornier video, a montage of the couple set to music Chanyeol doesn’t listen to, one Sehun no doubt shot and put together. Baekhyun was in tears the second it started. As tacky as Chanyeol finds it all, he can’t help the lump that forms in this throat.

 

With wide eyes, Chanyeol stares at the bar, an empty plate in his hand. There’s so much food he doesn’t know where to start.

The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice startles him and he wipes drool off his chin. He’s still salivating at the sight of his boyfriend; even though Chanyeol saw him try it on already, has seen him dressed up like this before, he’s yet to get over how good Kyungsoo looks in his suit tonight.

“Let’s hurry up and get food and sit,” Kyungsoo says, his tone hushed. “I think Baekhyun’s aunt just tried to hit on me.”

Chanyeol eats enough food to put him in a coma; it’s one of the worst decisions he’s ever made. He has no time to regret it, however, because he and Kyungsoo are meant to perform in less than five minutes. They set up and Chanyeol can’t pinpoint why his hands are trembling as he cradles his guitar in his lap; he’s performed for crowds far larger than this in the past. Kyungsoo sits in the chair adjacent to his and speaks into the microphone, his low voice grabbing everyone’s attention. He introduces himself and Chanyeol to those who may not know them, then presents the song, and afterwards flings a few compliments at the couple of the evening. Kyungsoo looks to Chanyeol for the ready, red light casting shadows on his features. Chanyeol drinks in the sight of him and nods, his heart thumping a mile a minute.

Kyungsoo’s voice filters through the speakers like the smoothest of coffee and Chanyeol’s anxieties lift instantly, his mind at ease and his fingers moving as if through water. Kyungsoo caresses each note like the song was made for him, clear and confident and beautiful. Baekhyun is crying by the second verse and Chanyeol knows his tears are the product of joy and the champagne he’s holding in his hands getting the better of him.

 

Baekhyun’s proposed a series of icebreaker games for everyone to get to know each other and mingle and the air is light as he stands at the front of the crowd and commands the room, the center of attention as always. At his side, Sehun looks amused and in every respect infatuated.

Sehun has always looked at Baekhyun like he was the sun. Glorious and immense and slightly daunting. His entire world revolving around it, dependant on it. Unable to sustain life without its rays.

When Chanyeol looks over his shoulder, Kyungsoo is looking at him similarly, stealing a longing glance from a few tables away. It catches Chanyeol off guard. It’s a lot to handle--the image of Kyungsoo’s tie undone a bit, hair still askew from earlier when Baekhyun had ruffled it after he’d introduced him as his squishiest friend to his cousin. Kyungsoo smiles wistfully and Chanyeol returns it. He wishes he could go over and hold him close (he refrains).

 

Baekhyun has never been able to handle his liquor and is drunk off his ass two flutes of champagne in. This is the second time Sehun has tried to take the microphone out of Baekhyun’s hands, but the older boy refuses to let him. He rambles at full volume, demanding everyone’s attention again as if they all haven’t been looking at him with eyes filled with worry ever since he started drinking. Their eyes grow wider as Baekhyun tries to clamor on top of a table and stand, but fumbles. Sehun saves him from tripping over the chord.

“Look,” Baekhyun shouts too closely to the microphone. It causes grating feedback to echo through the room and everyone cringes. He goes on. “I just wanna say a few short things about my friends Kyungsoo and Chanyeol over th—where are you guys—oh, they’re over there!” Chanyeol sinks in his chair as Baekhyun points over toward him and then at Kyungsoo. “Come here, my pretties.” Chanyeol has a bad feeling about this; Baekhyun’s impromptu speeches tend to be never ending and he hates to be singled out like this. Heaving a sigh, Chanyeol gets up and traipses over towards Baekhyun, meeting Kyungsoo at the head of the crowd.

“These two have been such incredible friends to us,” he says, sitting Indian style on the table. He circles an arm around Chanyeol’s waist. “They’re just the awesomest people, like the goodest guys you will _ever_ meet in your life, ever, like in general, and I just wanna say I can’t wait to see them get married as well! Their wedding is gonna be lit--”

Sehun shoves his nose into the mic to speak over Baekhyun. “Wedding _s_. He meant _weddings_.”

Baekhyun looks confused. The gears in his mind click into place after Sehun gives him a pointed look. “Right.” Hopping off the table like a boozed up rabbit, Baekhyun gets on a knee in front of Chanyeol only to stand to wobbly feet a second later. “No, wait I already did that bit. What was I gonna say, again? Shit, kids, alcoholism is _bad_!” The room bursts out into laughter and Chanyeol face palms. “Oh, I remember now! Chanyeol Park, will you be my best man?”

Chanyeol’s certain his heart has just stopped. “W…what about Baekbeom?”

Baekhyun pokes out his bottom lip. “Do you _see_ Baekbeom here anywhere? He missed out on tonight because his wife could ‘go into labor’ ‘any day now’.” He puts air quotes around the phrases and rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Selfish, right?”

“I--”

“Seriously, he won’t mind. He knows I like you better than him, anyhow. Say yes!”

“ _Yes_.”

The cheers are deafening.

 

The party starts to dwindle. By the end of the night, Baekhyun convinces an exhausted-looking Zitao to take photos of Sehun and him outside by the lake and under the light of the full moon. He obliges and after fixing them up to look more presentable, he instructs them through a series of serious(ly cringey) prom-worthy poses. Then, Baekhyun jumps on Sehun’s back, all but tackling him to the concrete and insists on doing “funner” poses (he almost falls head first into the lake as he attempts to stand on the railing to be the Rose to Sehun’s Jack).

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol watch on in amusement. And as soon as the last of the guests say their goodbyes, Chanyeol grabs Kyungsoo from behind, arms wrapped around his waist as he plants his butt on a nearby bench and hauls Kyungsoo in his lap. Shoving his nose in his shoulder, Chanyeol inhales the scent of him deeply.

They slip into contented silence, caressed by the soft billow of the wind and the aroma of the lake behind them. Sehun and Baekhyun have started to make out (Zitao is groaning at them to _just hurry up and finish the damn shoot already you horny fucks,_ but to no avail) and Kyungoo’s giggles rattle through Chanyeol’s bones.

“They really _are_ perfect for each other,” Kyungsoo muses.

Chanyeol snorts. “A perfect mess.”

Kyungsoo’s voice gets tinier. “Do you think Baekhyun had something going? When he said he wanted to see the two of us married.”

“He was drunk.”

“It’s not a horrible idea, though, is it?”

Chanyeol softens. “You’re too young to worry about that. What’s important is that we love each other here and now, remember?”

Kyungsoo nods, a flash of something pensive in his eyes and Chanyeol’s heart clenches. He folds his blazer around the smaller boy, buttoning him up and trapping him against his chest. He pays no heed to his squeals of disapproval and holds him there like that.

Truth is, imagining his future with anyone else makes Chanyeol want to bawl. He doesn’t know how to tell Kyungsoo that he envisions what it’d be like waking up to his kisses every day, falling into boring routines together, being the one he comes home to. Stupid things like forever.

He doesn’t want to fuck it up before they even have a chance to taste it.

What if Kyungsoo realizes he deserves so much better than what he has to offer?

 

 

 

Kyungsoo is a far more zealous senior than Chanyeol had ever been; on top of maintaining perfect grades, he’s started working out on a regular basis. He’s getting buff as hell and Chanyeol has never been more frustrated sexually.

Kyungsoo’s YouTube channel has accumulated quite the following (ninety percent fanatical teenage girls who Kyungsoo has become weak to) since he and Chanyeol did the Boyfriend Tag over the summer (Chanyeol had insisted and the look on Kyungsoo’s face was priceless). It’s his most viewed video to date.

His viewers somehow persuade Kyungsoo into doing weekly vlogs.

(“You once said weekly vloggers were the ‘cancer of YouTube’.”

“It’s what the people _want_ , Chanyeol.”)

Chanyeol clicks on the most recent vlog and watches on in adoration and restrained lust. Kyungsoo documents his morning routine visit to the gym and then he and Jongdae dawdle around at the mall and the park. At the end, Kyungsoo chats about a few things while putting together a salad and he mentions Chanyeol, smile dancing on his lips all the while.

Scanning the comments, Chanyeol is relieved to find that they’re all positive.

_asmrthoe: I could literally watch you all day ;; Seriously I’d listen to you read the fucking phonebook. I love these vlogs!_

_justamy: omg jongdae’s ass in those jeans tho??? he’s bae???? also soo mentioned chanyeol again! they’re so in love wtf_

_Kyungsoup: You look good enough to eat in this video, Soo <3 Jongdae too xD He’s funny AND hot. Sucks he’s taken. When will Chanyeol be joining you again, though? The pair of you need to do another video and totally make my LIFE again. Love you <3_

_chansoo4lyfebinch: pls dID YOU GUYS SEE THE LOOK ON HIS FACE WHEN HE WAS TALKING ABOUT CHANYEOL RTGUHGAUDF THE WAY HIS VOICE DROPPED THO SFUIHSIUH HMMMMMMM GODD,, THE AMOUNT OF HEART EYES MOTHERFUCKER,, I WANT HIM TO SHOVE THAT CUCUMBER HE PUT IN HIS SALAD ENTIRELY UP MY ASS!!!! I’M DEAD_

He revisits the comment section beneath the boyfriend tag video. Upon reading the new comments that have been posted, he isn’t overwhelmed with the same warm feeling he’d gotten a moment ago.

_Castielssidebitch: Lol do you gais think Chanyeol bought Kyungsoo that $400 (I looked it up, it’s seriously $400) Virgin Mary necklace ‘cause he wants to dick him down wearing nothing but that? He looks like the type. (178 thumbs up)_

_Reply to Castielssidebitch: Viktuurisnutsac: Lmao!! Yo. I can see that. Notice the way he sizes him up after every sentence. He can’t take his eyes off his lips!!1! Swoon._

_Reply to Castielssidebitch: flynnthehuman: ya’ll are all goin to hell but shiiiit, so am i! what a hot thought,, i’m wet tbh…_

After the tenth comment, Chanyeol surrenders and flops forward, knocking his forehead against his desk with a drawn-out groan.

These kids have _all_ got him pegged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -yikes the corn is.............so Heavy in this one i literally choked while editing this lsf;flkjd  
> -ummm no offense but enjoy this chapter while u can bc the rest of the fic is pure angst lmao rip  
> -chapter title from [circa survive's the difference between medicine and poison is in the dose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qETYuV-vmg).  
> -[read sebaek's bg story here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9719675)


	4. How To Disappear Completely

“Daddy, what was mom like?” Chanyeol asked, tugging at Father Park’s pants leg. The question couldn’t wait, though it was obvious the man was preoccupied with something of importance.

“She was a person who loved you very much.” His dad had told him plainly.

“Show me more pictures of her!”

A hearty chuckle. “But you’ve already seen all of them.”

“I wanna see them again! And then again!”

Chanyeol hadn’t made a peep as his dad fetched the photo book and sat him in his lap. He began flipping through the pages and narrating stories behind the pictures, reviving old memories with passionate energy. Chanyeol could see the pictures dance to life; he was one hundred percent attentive, his ears standing up straight.

An intense emotion evoked deep inside him, Chanyeol began to blubber.

“Why are you crying, buddy?”

“I dunno,” Chanyeol sniffled. “I’m just sad.”

His dad’s smile always calmed him. “Don’t be, okay? I’m here for you. I’ll _always_ be here for you.”

 

He couldn’t grasp it back then, but Chanyeol _missed_ his mom. He was hurt that he’d been deprived of the chance to even remember how her touch felt when other kids could run into their mother’s arms as they picked them up for school or hold their hands on the way home as often as they desired. All Chanyeol had was his imagination, the images his mind fashioned about how it must have felt to experience a mother’s soft voice singing his favorite song or reading him bedtime stories, sweet breath tickling his hair as she tucked him in.

The only thing that hurt more was the realization that he would never know a mother’s touch _at all_. His dad was married to the church; it would be his only bride.

Chanyeol doesn't remember when he stopped asking about his mother.

But ignorance was better than the twinge of longing.

 

Chanyeol never knew his real dad. He was some thug his mother had courted, a coward who had ran away the second she had gotten pregnant, and he never made an effort to contact Chanyeol. According to Father Park, he was scum and had fled because of some trouble with the law he’d gotten himself into. No one knew of his exact whereabouts. The fact that his real father was a criminal wasn’t even the worst thing to Chanyeol; Chanyeol didn’t want to be acquainted with a man who could leave a woman and his unborn child alone like that.

 

He’s replying to a professor’s email when something tells him to switch over to his personal email. He’s neglected the task for a while; he had meant to sift through and clear out the thousands of emails that have collected over the months. He’s half done sending things to the trash or to his starred folder when a subject catches his eye and makes his joints lock up.

URGENT PLEASE READ

Chanyeol clicks on it immediately and his eyes become saucers as he’s met with chunky paragraphs. He pans over them and his heart rate skyrockets.

His entire body is drenched in sweat.

 

His dad answers his Skype call with a smile. Chanyeol can tell the graying man is sitting in his office from the background, bookshelf neat and orderly, the painting of Christ hung above him in sight and slightly crooked. Father Park is finishing up and getting ready to go home soon. Chanyeol’s eyes follow the movement of his dad’s fingers as he goes to undo his clerical collar. He feels offended by it.

“Hey--”

“How did mom die?” Chanyeol inquires, abrupt but calm. He leans back in his desk chair and swivels, fingers laced together in his lap.

His dad’s smile vanishes, his forehead creasing. “What is this about? You _know_ how she died.”

“ _I_ do. But I want to hear _you_ say it.”

“Sh…she had lung cancer--”

Chanyeol bangs his fist on his desk in aggravation, visor of composure slipping. The items on his desk scatter and tip over. “Bullshit! I can’t believe you kept this from me!”

Father Park’s eyes grow wide.

“He reached out to me. My real dad.” Chanyeol pauses. His hands start to shake. Flares of red explode behind his eyelids. “You know, the one you claimed no one knew the whereabouts of. He was in a prison in Arizona all these years. He got my e-mail from a friend whose kid goes to the same school, apparently. He told me everything; how he was sorry that mom died because of a heroin overdose, heroin that _he_ sold her, that he’d been her supplier for years, and still feels culpable for her death. How he was convicted for dealing charges. They let him out on good behavior, _Father_.” He puts his hands together in mock-prayer and draws the sign of the cross against himself with his fingers. “God really _does_ love even the sickest of his children.” He scoffs. “Isn’t that something?”

Father Park falls silent.

“At first, I didn’t want to believe him. I hoped it was some sort of twisted joke. But what reason would he have to lie to me after all this time?”

“Probably to extort money from you or something like he did with me. The man is a con artist, Chanyeol--”

Chanyeol cuts him off. “Even amidst all the tragic shit he revealed, all the sad, groveling bits he threw at me about how he regretted never being able to reach out to me through the years--all the upset he was selling, the sutured wounds he was ripping open. All I could think was, who makes that up about their own sister? Feeds those kinds of lies to a child? Why? Why did you fucking do it?”

“To protect you. I was going to tell you soon, now that you’re an adult, now that you’d be strong enough to comprehend it. But I just never found the right moment. I never expected you to find out this way. I thought your dad was supposed to be in jail way longer than this. I didn’t think you needed to know as a kid. You were already so confused and troubled by all of it. I thought it would have only hurt you more.”

Chanyeol goes quiet. He refuses to look his dad in the eye.

“Son--”

Chanyeol feels diminutive, his eyes cast to his keyboard. His voice is hushed. “He wanted to know if you spread her ashes on that beach grandma and grandpa used to take the two of you to when you were kids…like mom wanted. Because she knew she was gonna die. Because she _wanted_ to die.”

Father Park pauses. He presses his lips in a line, breathes like he’s trying to hold back tears, similar to Chanyeol. “I did.” And that’s when Chanyeol loses it, tears streaming down his face. He can’t stop his chest from vibrating, psychotic laughter bursting from his lungs in short breaths.

“You had her cremated,” Chanyeol chokes out, gasping for breath. “That goes against His _Word_ , Father.”

“Chanyeol, I’m sorry, but please hear me out. The way your mother lived brought shame to the entire family; she was a burden and embarrassment to _so_ many people. She spiraled, recovered and relapsed again and again until it became a vicious cycle. She made everyone sympathize for her over and over and _over_ , but all she ever cared about was herself. No one wanted to deal with her; even her closest friends all shunned her. But I didn’t. I _couldn’t_. She was my baby sister. I looked after her like I always had until it was too much. Until it was impossible to do so. She sought out her own perdition and no one could stop her from meeting it. The shame she left me after she died almost cost me my entry into the parish. I was a _mess_.”

“Poor you.” The rage Chanyeol feels coursing through him is blinding. “A monster is what you are.”

There’s a flash of hurt on his dad’s face but he pushes it down. The original master of keeping up appearances. “Again, I’m sorry you found out like this, but like I said, I--”

“Whose grave is it?”

“What…?”

Chanyeol is screaming now, his bones rattling. “Whose grave is it that you let me visit thinking mom was buried there? Up until I was fucking twelve years old?”

Father Park inhales and exhales. “It’s your older sister’s. She shared your mother’s name, Yoora. She died at five months old from health complications. It was her death that made your mother turn to drugs and spiral into addiction. It affected us all, but--”

“Who _are_ you?”

“Chanyeol, listen--”

“ _You_ should have died instead of them.”

Chanyeol closes his laptop so hard he’s certain he’s cracked the screen. He stands, puffs his chest out, hands at his hips and stretches his neck, tries to regulate his breathing. But the walls are closing in rapidly; he feels small and shrinks in on himself. He crawls on his bed and lies there, defeated, hugs knees to his chest, a torrent of tears obscuring his vision.

 

The only thing worse than being in tatters about a woman he never knew is discovering the man he thought he once knew better than anyone, the man who had looked out for him when no one else cared, had been a stranger to him all along. The smiling face that once brought Chanyeol comfort had been a mere mask, a fever dream disguised as a reflection of Christ. With shaky hands and fear in his heart, Chanyeol pulls at it again and again, unmasking the villain. It’s useless. He takes on a different form each time.

The anger inside eats at him. Metastasizing. Compounding. Slathering concrete hatred on his soul, layer upon layer upon layer for someone he once treasured. As far as Chanyeol is concerned, his dad is just as dead as his mom and sister are.

He has no intention of uttering a single word to him ever again.

 

He spends days upon weeks roasting in his rage, seconds away from fighting anyone who looks at him wrong. He’s snappy with people who have his best intentions at heart, who don’t deserve the treatment and apologizes halfheartedly only to say he’s fine when they offer help. Too much time is wasted crying his eyes out behind closed doors without a shoulder to lean on because he refuses the company. The backed up pipeline of emotions that had become him is replaced by a black hole in his chest.

And the voracious need to fill it.

 

From his side of the room, Chanyeol pelts what must be the hundredth wad of paper at Junmyeon. Junmyeon doesn’t budge when it hits him upside the head and joins the white mess accumulating around him in hills. The other boy has his nose shoved into an obscure novel, perfecting his skill of ignoring Chanyeol’s pestering.

Chanyeol flicks his wrist, hitting Junmyeon practically hard in the eye. Finally Junmyeon breaks. “What?” he shouts.

“Let’s go to that strip club downtown that just opened,” Chanyeol insists, bouncing up and down on his mattress like an impatient child.

Junmyeon looks puzzled. “ _Now_?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says with a shrug. “What else have you got to do?”

“You mean besides _not_ having tits and poorly shaven pussy lips thrust into my face?”

“You’re the gayest person I’ve ever met and that’s saying _a lot_. Come on. Please?”

“We won’t be able to drink, so what’s the point?”

Chanyeol whips out the fake ids he had gotten made ages ago and flashes them, grin wide.

“What the hell?” Junmyeon whines. He takes the ids and inspects them, mouth hung open. “How did you even--?”

“Don’t question my ways. Just _trust_ me.”

 

The club is vivacious. Chanyeol can feel the base rumble in his chest even from outside, and it’s been too long since he’s been out, his feet itching with the need to dance. The bouncer is a broad man with more hair on his chest than his head and as Chanyeol hands him the ids, he looks suspicious. The large man cocks one eyebrow and studies them. Junmyeon is stiffer than a soldier at attention at Chanyeol’s side; he’s being too obvious. The anticipation makes the back of Chanyeol’s neck begin to sweat. But after looking at them a few more times, the bouncer just shrugs his shoulders up in indifference and grants them entrance.

Chanyeol orders more rounds than necessary to share between two people. Junmyeon drinks like a ninety year old woman on dialysis, sipping from his glass at an infuriatingly slow pace and Chanyeol is fed up with him and snatches and drinks Junmyeon’s leftovers. Junmyeon’s pleas for him to slow up fall on deaf ears and Chanyeol almost trips over his stool because his song just came on and he needed to get up and dance.

Junmyeon has a cute ass. It’s small but perky looks especially good in skinny jeans like the ones he’s wearing tonight. Chanyeol has slapped it playfully plenty of times in the past (Junmyeon always yelps and tells him to quit it). This time is no different, but even after Junmyeon is swatting at his hands, Chanyeol doesn’t stop. He slaps it twice more, then again, squeezing a handful on the last hit.

“The fuck?” Junmyeon says, holding his hands over his ass.

“Just a friendly bro-gesture. Don’t be a fag about it.” Junmyeon frowns at Chanyeol, disappointment and hurt swimming in his alcohol-glazed orbs. And maybe Chanyeol had been out of line. “Sorry.”

Junmyeon’s forehead smoothes out. “Let’s go home; you're drunk as hell.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, still grooving chaotically. “I think someone spiked this,” he says, pointing to his brightly colored daiquiri. “My head is spinning like a top!” He still drinks it, anyway.

“Stop drinking it, then,” Junmyeon yells. He lunges at Chanyeol’s glass. Chanyeol just puts his hand flat on Junmyeon’s forehead and holds him back, laughing as the shorter boy struggles against his clutch.

Mocking his friend’s height disadvantage, Chanyeol’s chest swells with conceit and something more depressing, a quarrel of emotions. “Hey, you said it yourself; I’m fucked anyhow, right? So, bottoms up!”

 

He’s by the high rise cylindrical stage, peering up with elation and awe as he watches a girl bathed in purple and blue light gyrate against a pole. Curly black hair falls just below her slim shoulders. Her skin, thoroughly blessed by the sun, shimmers in the light. She’s decked out in jewelry and a black and gold bikini two sizes too small for her bodacious body; she’s well endowed where it counts and has an ass that won’t quit. The pumps on her feet make her legs look like skyscrapers. She knows how to work a pole, stealing the show from all the other girls around her with her hypnotizing movements. Though there are several other men around gawking at her, her striking, green and gold flecked eyes are locked with Chanyeol’s, feline smirk playing on her lips.

She steps closer to him and runs her slim fingers up her outstretched leg. Chanyeol follows the movement and wets his dry lips, tucks money into her pumps, then into the elastic of her bikini bottoms as she squats, legs wide open. She bends over towards him and he gets a closer look at her face—skin flawless, lips plump and _fuck_. She’s way out of Chanyeol’s league.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he blurts. He can’t tell if she giggles because he probably just sounded like the World’s Biggest Dork or if he simply looks funny. “And you are…?”

“Anyone you want me to be.” She jiggles her chest and Chanyeol is entranced, sticks a bill into her bra before she grabs his wrist and presses his hand against the swell of her breast. He takes the opportunity to cup her tit and _squeeze_.

“Watch your hands, buddy,” a gruff, surly voice advises. Chanyeol whips around to see a heavily built, round in the middle security guard approaching him. Soon the man is looming over him, gaze dark and intimidating.

“I’m minding my business, _buddy_ ,” Chanyeol challenges, slurring over his words. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? Try outs for sumo wrestling are downtown. You literally can’t miss it.”

Sumo Guy bristles and snarls; his pride had obviously been snubbed. “Watch your mouth, you little _shit_.”

“Have you ever _watched_ the way your belly fat jiggles when you walk? Maybe if you did, you could finally get a clue as to where to find your dick. I bet it’s _suffocating_ under that shit.”

Incensed, the guard lunges. He snatches Chanyeol up by the collar and Chanyeol throws a punch at him in retaliation, but the other man dodges it and clocks him in the nose and then upside the head. The next thing Chanyeol knows, he’s on the ground, a jumbled mass of voices bursting before fading into silence.

 

He isn’t sure how long he’d been blacked out. When he wakes, he’s met with the sight of Junmyeon’s concerned face hovering above him.

Chanyeol assumes they’re still in the club if the way the boom of the bass rattles his brains as he sits up is any indication. Pain surges through his skull. He gauges his surroundings. They’re sitting on a bench outside of the men’s bathroom and Chanyeol wonders how much help Junmyeon had needed lifting him all the way over here.

“You’re so fucking reckless,” Junmyeon chastises. “What the hell were you thinking? That guy was three times your size.”

“Not my fault that asshole had an ugly case of roid-rage.” Chanyeol winces as Junmyeon presses a wet tissue against his wound, his head throbbing. “Lucky I’ve got you to watch my back for me.”

“For once, you’re right about something.” Junmyeon cringes at the blood soaked tissue in his hands. “Let’s get you more tissues.” He tugs Chanyeol to his feet and leads him into the bathroom.

 

“I feel like I’m _dying_ ,” Chanyeol groans. His ass is aching from where it’s pressed into the sink underneath the light so that Junmyeon can see properly. Junmyeon dabs a fresh, wet tissue against his head in response. Chanyeol hisses.

“You can’t die on me yet,” comments Junmyeon. He’s on his tiptoes so he can reach Chanyeol’s forehead; his face is inches from Chanyeol’s and he looks cute as hell. Chanyeol never realized how pretty the other boy’s eyelashes are and for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off of Junmyeon’s lips, slightly chapped and parted in concentration while he tends to the wound. “You still owe me for tonight.”

“What exactly do I _owe_ you?”

“I’ve yet to decide.” Junmyeon sighs and brings the tissue down. “The bleeding won’t stop but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Though you _should_ clean it as soon as possible to ensure that it doesn’t get infected. It’s a head wound, and those always tend to bleed profusely no matter how shallow the cut because of--.”

Without thinking, Chanyeol leans in to paste his lips to Junmyeon’s. Junmyeon pushes him away immediately.

“What the fuck?” Junmyeon demands, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol offers but Junmyeon isn’t receptive of his half-assed apology; the word seems to augment his disgust. Chanyeol changes his tone. “Wait, no. You know what, I take that back. You’re telling me you didn’t want that? That I misinterpreted the moment?”

“There was no _moment_ , you asshole.”

Chanyeol scoffs. He wants to stop himself but he can’t, unable to eject the hand shoved up his ass controlling him like a fucking puppet. He isn’t used to being turned down like this. “I see the way you look at me. The way you’re always watching over me.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a fucking…walking grenade!”

“Is that a euphemism for you wanting me to explode in your mouth, or?”

Junmyeon looks appalled. “Quit being so vile. Not everyone wants to fuck you, Chanyeol.”

“Don’t try to act so holier than thou,” Chanyeol shouts. “You’re just as pitiable as I am. You try to act like you’ve got everything under control while you hide behind the curtain of your perfection. You’re as sad and insecure as they come! Not to mention boring. God, I _hope_ Minho’s fucking other, more _interesting_ people behind your back while you wait around with your dick tucked between your asscheeks. Pathetic.”

It happens so quickly he doesn’t even remember seeing Junmyeon bring his hand back up. All Chanyeol registers is the sound of Junmyeon’s palm colliding with his face and resonating in the empty bathroom. Chanyeol is only shocked but for a moment; he turns back to Junmyeon and smirks, running his tongue over the inside of his throbbing cheek. The twinge is delicious.

Junmyeon’s eyes are wet.  He speaks and his words leave him like a boiling over tea pot, screaming and hissing. “Just because you’ve doused yourself in the petrol of your own shame and misery and every fucking cloud refuses you rain, don’t you _dare_ try to bring me down in flames with you!”

Chanyeol watches Junmyeon storm out of the bathroom. He doesn’t chase after him, couldn’t bring himself to even if his head didn’t feel bashed in. His feet are cemented to the ground with the callousness of Junmyeon’s words.

He shakes himself out of it, or the liquor or whatever the hell polluting his system, does. Chanyeol trudges back to the bar and orders more rounds and begins to see double. But at least the pain he’s feeling is no longer emotional.

His mind is numb.

He re-trains his eyes on the stripper from earlier; she’s preoccupied elsewhere, giving a show at center stage with her tall, flat-chested blonde friend. Chanyeol saunters his way over, squeezes through the group of sweaty men who are all but pelting money at them, their thirst ignored or merely smirked at. Chanyeol stands at the front of the throng. The blonde stripper stops dancing and regards him.

“Yo, Alex,” she calls to the curly haired girl, her glittery, purple lips turning up in a smirk. “Is this the guy from before you mentioned?”

Alex twirls around to look at Chanyeol again, emerald eyes broad and locking with his. Chanyeol’s heart stutters.

“How much each for a private room?” he asks Alex and her friend.

“Two for the price of one for a cutie like you,” offers the blonde. Chanyeol looks to Alex for confirmation and she nods at him curtly.

They each grab one of his hands and lead him away from the crowd and up to the secluded rooms. Without words, he follows them and his ears start to ring.

Clamor fades out once more with the remnants of Chanyeol’s emotions.

 

When he fumbles into his room that night, he’s sick before he knows it. He feels like death is perched on his shoulder as he doubles over uncontrollably and heaves, pain ripping his insides apart. He vomits on Junmyeon’s side of the room. He’s disgusted by the sight, disgusted with himself and the sins he’s committed, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break skin. Rage a flash of red behind his eyelids, he punches Junmyeon’s mirror so hard it shatters beneath the force of his fist. Shards of class get lodged in Chanyeol’s broken skin.

He follows streams of crimson, lets blood drip down his pallid skin before rinsing the wound off with water and slapping a bandage on it.

Back against the wall, he sinks the nail of his thumb into his fist and cries out at the pain, tears blinding him as his legs slowly give out and he curls in on himself against the cool floor.

 

Guilt has finally sunk its teeth into him. It’s clamped down and refuses to let go. The pain is excruciating; Chanyeol can feel the life leaving him but he’s too weak to fight back.

After rousing at dawn and staring vacantly at the wall for two hours straight, Chanyeol manages to haul himself out of bed the next day.

He scrubs up the vomit that has begun to cake into the rug. It will definitely stain. Cringing at the smell that has begun to emanate from the entire room, he cleans up the shards of glass to his best ability. Junmyeon isn’t returning his calls and hasn’t been back to their room but Chanyeol guesses it works out in his favor; Junmyeon will be even more furious once he realizes his mirror has been destroyed.

Chanyeol is robotic. He goes through the routine, the entire day a blur before his eyes. He’s unsure of the lecture he just sat through. What was it even about?

He waits for his order to be filled at the café, hears his name called once, twice, three times, loud and clear as day. But his body is inert. He feels detached from himself, perfunctory. A ghost haunting the shell of a pathetic excuse for a man. And for a moment, he can actually fucking see it; he’s on the outside looking in. He’s not real.

Chanyeol digs out leftover cash in his back pocket, slaps a wad of money down on the marble counter, snatches the drink out of the barista’s hand and turns to plod away. He’s sure the cashier is trying to get his attention; he doesn’t know if he overpaid or underpaid her, but he chooses to tune the sound of her out. He doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.

It feels like he’s trapped in a snow globe and someone has just shaken it, his mind a pinball ricocheting off his skull. And for a split second his legs stop working. It scares him; he jolts as he collides with someone, the hard thump of their bodies causing a small amount of his coffee to spill down Chanyeol’s leg, scalding hot liquid burning his skin and bringing him back to earth. He curses.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the culprit says. This stranger should consider himself fortunate that Chanyeol’s head hurts too much to incite a fist fight. “Let me get you napkins and buy you another cup of coffee.”

Chanyeol’s head jerks to look at the stranger, a retort on the tip of his tongue. He softens and swallows his words, thwarted by the stranger’s beauty; the boy in front of him has a slim, cute nose, large chocolate eyes, and wispy blond hair that frames his soft face. “No need,” Chanyeol peeps. “It’s my fault.”

“I insist. You look like you could use a friend, anyway. My name’s Lu.”

 

Sitting on the bench outside of the coffee shop--the same one Sehun had chewed him out on during freshman year--feels strange all of a sudden and _oh_ , how time has flown. Chanyeol wonders what Sehun would say if he could see him here and now. How much more pathetic he’s become.

He could use a good kick in the ass.

After taking a chug of still too-hot coffee, Chanyeol closes his eyes, presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes. He rubs circles into his temples, face scrunched and emits a sigh, eyelashes begging for sleep, too heavy to keep open.

“Rough night?”

Chanyeol startles. He forgot Lu had been sitting beside him. The other boy had been quiet for so long. Or maybe Chanyeol had just been tuning him out all this time. He doesn’t know.

Chanyeol gapes at Lu for a moment. Lu gifts him a small smile. “Feels like my brain is sloshing around in my skull,” Chanyeol groans. “Like old, soggy cereal.”

Lu hums his understanding. “As a psyche student, I feel that on a deep, _deep_ , emotional level.”

“Ugh. Psyche? I could _never_. Being trusted with that many people’s secrets would drive me mad. Can barely deal with my own.”

“That probably says a lot about you.”

“Are you shrinking me?”

“Nope! I charge for that.” Lu laughs and the sound tickles Chanyeol’s eardrums. It reminds him of Kyungsoo’s laughter. It’s not as pretty.

Chanyeol snorts and takes another sip of coffee. His head flicks back over towards Lu and he blinks. He has no idea why the other boy is suddenly looking at him strange.

“What happened to your hand?” Lu asks, concern heavy on his tongue.

Chanyeol hadn’t even noticed. He watches blood seep through the white bandage on his fist and feels light headed at the sight.

“Come back to my dorm room,” Lu tells him. He stands. “I’ll wrap it properly.”

 

Lu’s room is tidy, as Chanyeol expects of a fastidious psychology student. The only mess are the books, piled up in a soaring stack on his desk and bursting from his bookshelf.

Chanyeol thanks Lu after the shorter boy urges him to take some extra strength Tylenol. He swallows the pills down in distaste. He hadn’t bothered to medicate himself for his aches. Call it a twisted sort of self punishment.

Next, Lu disposes of the old bandage, disinfects Chanyeol’s fist and wraps his hand with care and efficiency.

Chanyeol marvels at his new friend’s handiwork. It’s almost as if he’s born anew. “Damn. Thanks. Is triage like, required learning for psyche students?”

Lu chuckles. “No. My mom was a nurse. She used to teach me this stuff all the time when I was younger.”

“Did she retire?”

“She died when I was ten. Lung cancer. She didn’t even smoke; she was actually extremely against it. So much so that she’d slap cigarettes out of the neighborhood kids’ hands if she saw them with them.” He smiles sadly. “The irony, right?”

“Sorry. She sounds like she was a good woman.”

Lu’s smile is more genuine now. “She was.”

“My mom died, too,” Chanyeol offers.

“How?”

“Heroin overdose.”

Lu’s face drops.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol sighs, eyes occupied on further inspecting the intricacy of his bandage. He shrugs his shoulders. “She was fucked up, I guess. May explain why I turned out the way I did.”

“Do you…wanna talk about it?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. His heart rate spikes at the mere thought and he feels himself start to tremble. His chest tightens. The room begins to sink, a sand timer running out. Lu looks at him with worry contorting his features as Chanyeol grips the desk chair for leverage. Chanyeol takes a deep breath and lets it out noisily. “Can you just…hold me, maybe? Sorry if that’s a weird thing to ask, but I--”

“Sure.”

 

Lu cards his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair and his blunt nails scratch soothingly against Chanyeol’s scalp where his head is cradled in Lu’s chest. He stares dead-eyed at their reflection in the mirror opposite the bed. It’s a fact; Lu is beautiful and Chanyeol can tell his insides reflect a similar type of beauty--it radiates from his eyes, form his touch. A whole world a relief opens up for Chanyeol just by being held like this. It feels as if he’s needed. As if he matters. Tears prick at the sides of his eyes and Lu tucks his fingers underneath Chanyeol’s chin, tilts his head so that their gazes align, and presses his lips to Chanyeol’s in a short, ginger kiss. He recoils to search Chanyeol’s eyes for approval.

It’s all the invitation Chanyeol needs to take Lu’s face in his hands and kiss him hard, seek solace among the smooth ridges of his mouth.

 

He doesn't taste good as Kyungsoo does, Chanyeol concludes as he lets Lu come down his throat.

He fucks into Lu hard, but the boy under him doesn't look half as wrecked or beholden as he imagines Kyungsoo would.

He’s screws his eyes shut. _God_ , how he wishes Lu were quieter. Perhaps that way, the images on the backs of his eyelids would be more palpable.

For a second it’s real, Kyungsoo’s face twisted in pleasure, Kyungsoo’s plush mouth moaning his name, Kyungsoo’s warm thighs shaking as he drives himself in deeper, quicker-- _Kyungsoo_. Chanyeol doesn't recognize what he’s said until he peels his eyes open and sees Lu looking up at him in confusion.

“Who’s Kyungsoo?”

The gravity of the situation--of _his_ actions goes off in his face like a fire cracker devoid of any of the resulting beauty or awe. It makes him shrink back like a man haunted, pull out of Lu with urgency and scramble to his feet.

Chanyeol throws on his clothes and bolts out the door without uttering another word.

 

Consumed by self-hatred, Chanyeol breaks the little statue of the Virgin Mary he’d kept on his desk and the way it shatters doesn’t do anything to heal him. He sees how far he can throw his rosary on the football field, curses God, yells expletives to the heavens at the top of his lungs in the empty expanse, voice rumbling and rippling through the air. Birds scatter out of nearby trees as his voice roars and echoes back at him, mocking him.

Cigarette perched between his lips, Chanyeol sidles into the empty bleachers and fits his large body under them, ass planted in mud, eyes raw from crying.

What the fuck has he done?

He had always been curious to how it felt; he had seen it done in movies time and time again, but it never looked as painful to him as actors made it seem. He doesn’t hesitate to roll up his sleeve and press the butt of his cigarette to his exposed skin. He was wrong. The pain is ample as he holds the cigarette there until tears rush down his cheeks involuntarily.

Until it starts to feel nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -[how to disappear completely-radiohead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=If47eIpWWa0)


	5. As You Are

“I fucked up,” Chanyeol grates.

The concern in Baekhyun’s tone makes Chanyeol feel like shit. “What happened?”

“I fucked up big time, Baek.”

“What did you _do_?”

All Chanyeol can do is cry.

“I’m coming up there. _Right_ now.”

 

Baekhyun arrives the very next day. Chanyeol can tell he drove all the way here without a break not only by how promptly he appeared, but by the dark circles that cling to his eyes. He’s armed with an entire backpack of soup, home remedies and supplements. Nothing to alleviate how sick Chanyeol truly feels.

Chanyeol lets Baekhyun tend to him, feed him and straighten up around his room. He can’t bring himself to speak without crying so he remains quiet and watches on. When Baekhyun finishes and plops down on the edge of his bed next to him in exhaustion, Chanyeol curls up in Baekhyun’s lap. He plays with the engagement ring on his friend’s finger, staring blankly at the way the silver band glistens in the light before he breaks down, defeated, tears overcoming him. His body trembles with sobs and before Chanyeol can say anything, Baekhyun runs his hand through his hair to tell him it’s alright.

“Will you tell me what happened now, babe?” Baekhyun asks, voice small. “ _Please_?”

Chanyeol’s teeth grit as he recounts the entire story, tells his friend about the horrible lies his dad told. It pains him to speak about it again; it feels like he’s reliving it. Baekhyun holds Chanyeol tight and cries with him, whispering mantras of apologies and assurances into the side of his unwashed hair.

“You _need_ to tell Kyungsoo.”

 

Chanyeol takes Baekhyun’s advice and confesses to Kyungsoo two days later over the phone. He speeds through the story, his throat tight and his voice a horse, thin whisper. On the verge of tears, Chanyeol informs the younger boy about the fabrications his dad told about his mom. About Lu. He leaves the two strippers out if the equation.

“I’m sorry such a horrid thing happened to you,” Kyungsoo says. His tone is flat. “I understand why you broke the celibacy pact. I’m not mad.”

Chanyeol _knows_ Kyungsoo is lying for his sake.

 

During the next couple of months, their relationship is more strained and unfeeling than ever. Kyungsoo doesn’t chat with him via video anymore (Chanyeol is relieved; he doesn’t know what he would do if he had to face the disappointment in Kyungsoo’s eyes. The pain in his voice when they speak on the phone is hurtful enough to deal with).

It’s a sick déjà vu. He knows it’s coming. Kyungsoo suggest they take another break until his eighteenth birthday and Chanyeol doesn’t protest. He accepts his fate though his insides are screaming at him not to. His heart feels a semblance of the ache. The feeling is transient.

 

Chanyeol sleeps more often than he does much of anything else and inevitably, his grades plummet. His friends start to worry about him. Moonbyul asks if he wants her to refer him to her shrink, if he wants a stranger to poke around in the crevices of his fucked up mind and try to fix him. Of course he doesn’t want that.

He can tell Junmyeon is worried about him, can sense that he hovers at the door seconds after saying goodbye. Can feel his eyes linger as Junmyeon glances at his lump of a form, huddled under mountains of covers and self pity. He doesn’t say anything, just leaves Chanyeol to wallow and _finally_ someone knows how to take a hint--he just wants to be _left alone_.

 

Chanyeol wonders if his mom felt similarly when she was abusing heroin. Had she knowingly harmed herself or was she simply unable to stop it, the calamity in her mind too much to face sobriety? Numbing her hurt better than facing the horrid glare of reality, of her scars.

He hadn’t planned on forming a habit or becoming dependent on the feeling of a pain that he can control. He wishes he were addicted to drugs instead so that he wouldn’t feel so ridiculous sneaking around, sniffing out solitude like dog with a broken nose and rolling up his sleeves, savoring the sting of pleasure.

Junmyeon discovers him in the act one day. Chanyeol hadn’t meant to do it so out in the open, or maybe he had. Maybe he’d wanted to get caught.

Realization striking him, Junmyeon slaps the cigarette out of his hands and grabs Chanyeol by the shoulders. He looks like he’s about to scold Chanyeol, but his features soften as soon as Chanyeol begins to cry. He doesn’t say anything when Chanyeol breaks down in his arms.

“I’m the same as her,” Chanyeol chokes out. “ _She_ made me like this.”

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asks. Chanyeol sobs harder, the sound stifled into Junmyeon’s chest. “ _Chanyeol…_?”

 

Chanyeol doesn’t believe that Junmyeon would expose a secret so dark. But he knows he must have said something because soon all of his friends are threatening to call someone if he doesn’t start taking care of himself. He isn’t mad at Junmyeon. He isn’t mad at any of them. He still has trouble feeling at all.

He takes Moonbyul’s advice and trudges to see her psychiatrist, a handsome woman with too white teeth and uneven eyes. She’s sweet and attentive when Chanyeol opens up to her, his words guarded and withholding. Even still, she doesn’t understand him. She acts like she does. She can’t.

She prescribes pills, something with more letters than one word should contain. He doesn’t bother trying to pronounce it. At the end of the session, she hugs him and Chanyeol is unable to decipher if she’s simply the type of person to dole out hugs to patients on the regular or if she pities him.

Chanyeol is too exhausted to drive. He hasn’t done anything physically rigorous all day, but he’s _drained_ ; mental turmoil has taken its toll on his body. He calls Junmyeon to come to pick him up.

Junmyeon pads into the waiting room like a wary mom, his pretty eyes full of pity and Chanyeol is dead tired of being on the receiving end of such looks. “Hey,” he greets, soft voice heartening. “How did it go?”

“It went,” Chanyeol responds, listless.

“You’re gonna come back, though, right?”

Chanyeol remains quiet.

“For _my_ sake?” asks Junmyeon. The pity in his eyes waltzes with a tragic kind of sadness. “It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Chanyeol bites his lip. “…I’m sorry.”

Junmyeon frowns. “For what?”

“For everything--for coming onto you, for all the shitty things I said about you, about Minho. For breaking your mirror, for being such a burden to deal w--”

The feeling of Junmyeon squeezing his arm reassuringly makes Chanyeol jolt. After a beat, he loosens up and leans into his friend’s touch. “You were never a burden. I’m just glad you’re on your way to getting better. That’s what’s important. That’s all I want. Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”

Chanyeol nods. He doesn’t try to fake a smile. It’s weirdly okay. “Yeah.”

 

 

Chanyeol forgets Kyungsoo's eighteenth birthday. It rolls around in a flash and Chanyeol swears the pills his psychiatrist--who he’s been seeing on the regular as per Junmyeon’s wishes and finally being more honest with--prescribed are fucking with his memory. He texts Kyungsoo a lackluster message a day late and gets no response.

He hadn’t expected one.

 

It’s Jongdae who extends an invite for Kyungsoo’s party and Chanyeol thinks that if not for him, he probably never would have heard about it. Although Baekhyun has been calling and texting to ask how he’s feeling every day since they last saw each other, he’s been a bit reticent where anything else besides Chanyeol’s wellbeing is concerned. Sehun treats Kyungsoo like the younger boy is his son; he’s overprotective and all but hisses at anyone who looks at him wrong and since Kyungsoo proposed the break, Sehun has been ignoring Chanyeol (Chanyeol assumes Baekhyun hasn’t said anything to his fiancé regarding his mental breakdown and for that, he is grateful). Irene is in cahoots with Sehun—she’s Kyungsoo’s (evil) godmother and Chanyeol hasn’t heard from her in months.

“Are you sure Kyungsoo even wants me there?” Chanyeol asks Jongdae on a drizzly evening. The sky is like blackness descending, destitute of even the tiniest glimmer of hope.

“I’m _certain_.”

 

Chanyeol doesn’t get to say much to Kyungsoo when he arrives at his front door. Kyungsoo scrutinizes him with gloom distorting his features and utters a small greeting before letting Chanyeol inside, eyes finding great interest in everything that isn’t Chanyeol.  Before Chanyeol can pry his parched lips apart, Kyungsoo's mom bounds into the living room with her camera and insists on taking pictures like it's prom night (Catholic school deprived them of that luxury). Chanyeol is drowning in second hand embarrassment. Kyungsoo is as stoic as ever.

Soon, Jongdae, Wendy, Irene, Jinki, Sehun and Baekhyun arrive to pick them up in a sleek, black stretch limousine and for the first time that night, Kyungsoo is donning an emotion on his face other than indifference. Jongdae bounces out of the vehicle to greet them and plops one of those cone-shaped birthday hats on Kyungsoo’s head, pulling at the string so it snaps against the underside of Kyungsoo’s chin. Cringing in pain, Kyungsoo slaps Jongdae upside the head and Chanyeol laughs genuinely for the first time in a long time.

The air isn’t something Chanyeol would describe as comfortable per se. When he crawls into the limo, everyone looks stunned to see him; his knees buckle under the weight of their stares and he feels as if he may be crushed by judgment, but the feeling is lifted by Baekhyun crawling into his lap and giving him a reassuring kiss on the forehead.

The driver is a graying, middle aged man who seems to think he’s in his mid-twenties and sparks up conversation full of misused slang with the group. He points out the innocuous little bar stowed away at the back and Jongdae looks like he may leave Wendy for the older man right then and there. Jongdae pours strawberry champagne like it’s liquid gold and after a few drinks, he decides to give an impromptu dance on the stripper pole in the middle of the limo. Irene boos him off the pole (“you think you look like Channing Tatum but in reality you’re Roger from American Dad”) and nominates Sehun to show them how it’s done. Sehun feigns coyness at first but then starts rolling his body and gyrating his hips in the most sinful ways (Baekhyun starts throwing dollar bills at him). Rose-colored nostalgia mixed with something he can’t quite place sends Chanyeol into a reverie and it really _is_ beginning to feel something like prom night.

They arrive at their destination, a swanky hotel with an indoor pool and Jacuzzi. Everyone pairs off and gets settled in their rooms, then coalesce in the lobby and head down for a swim. They almost get kicked out of the facility for playing stacked couple chicken and marco polo too loudly (that and Wendy nearly fucks Jongdae in the Jacuzzi).

Kyungsoo pretends he’s fine around the group but Chanyeol can tell he’s far from it, a mile long brick wall of distance built between them. Chanyeol knows he’s getting the cold shoulder because every time he voices his desire for a moment alone with Kyungsoo, the other boy brushes him off to chat with Sehun or cling to Irene.

Once their skin is thoroughly pruned and the smell of chlorine radiates from their pores, they dawdle back up to their rooms. Irene approaches Chanyeol outside on the balcony where he’d been watching stars dance sadly through the night sky. He hadn’t heard her coming. She doesn’t say anything, just snatches the cigarette he’s been wasting out of his hand and takes a drag. It’s been a while since Chanyeol has seen Irene in person and he notes the lines around her eyes, the traces of grief that hadn’t been present before.

“How the _hell_ do you plan on fixing this?” she spits, anger swinging with iron fists from each syllable.

Chanyeol gulps. “How much did Kyungsoo tell you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me much of anything. He’s just been so… _dethatched_ emotionally again and mentioned that you two were on another break. I assumed that you most likely cheated on him from the things he’d revealed about you in the past. How you used to _hoe_ around.” She scoffs and eyes Chanyeol up and down, her lip curling up in disgust. “Am I right?”

Her words singe. Chanyeol retrieves his cigarette from her hands, a sad stub, lips burning on the inhale. He exhales noisily, brushing ashes off of his mouth and fingers and stomping the cigarette out. His silence seems to answer her question for her. “What do you _want_?”

“I want you to actually make _some_ sort of fucking effort and mend things with him. Or else.”

The sound of Kyungsoo screaming from inside scares them both breathless. They run in to check on him and find him unscathed; on the contrary, the screams seem to have been the product of glee.

Jongdae stands beside him, a smug grin on his lips as he watches Kyungsoo inspect the tickets in his hands.

“I thought this show was sold out,” Kyungsoo gasps, features rounded. “I looked for tickets for weeks; how did you get them?”

“I know some people. That and I’m just an all around bomb friend. No need to thank me too much.”

Kyungsoo throws himself in Jongdae’s arms and hugs him tight and the frost in Chanyeol’s heart melts at the sight.

“Show starts in thirty!”

 

Kyungsoo had bounced up and down and shoutd the artist’s songs at the top of his lungs in everyone’s face the whole way to the venue. But once the lights dim, Chanyeol quarrels with confusion, unable to tell whether Kyungsoo is hiding antipathy underneath his joyful eyes as he watches the stage or if he’s just that enraptured by the sight of one of his favorite artists. Everyone else is enjoying the show, dancing even if they’re not as familiar with the songs, but there’s too much on Chanyeol’s mind--it’s hindering him from appreciating the music thoroughly.

During one of the slower songs, Chanyeol tries to touch Kyungsoo’s arm but Kyungsoo recoils from the touch like he’s in pain. At this rate, Chanyeol is going to lose mind. He panics, a sandstorm of emotions blinding his eyes.

This is his last resort.

The clutch of desperation pulls him to his knees in front of Kyungsoo. It’s the only solution he can muster; he isn’t creative when it comes to apologizing. Glancing around to make sure no one is paying attention, he slowly unzips Kyungsoo’s jeans, willing his hands to still. Kyungsoo stiffens up as Chanyeol frees his cock from his pants but doesn’t push him away or knee him in the throat so Chanyeol doesn’t hesitate to put his mouth on him in hopes that it will make amends.

Kyungsoo doesn't take his eyes off the stage once, even as he comes in Chanyeol’s mouth and the music ends, the crowd bursting out into cheers.

 

Later that night, everyone piles up in Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s room to watch a movie. Not many of their friends engross themselves in the plot; Wendy stopped watching a long time ago in favor of pasting her lips to the underside of Jongdae’s jaw. Baekhyun and Sehun are in a similar predicament on the futon in the corner, and Irene lead Jinki out by the hand a few minutes ago and the pair has yet to return. Kyungsoo is silent at Chanyeol’s side. He’s squinting because he refuses to wear his glasses these days (now he’s dependant on contacts), his eyes glued to the television, forehead wrinkled in concentration. Chanyeol had attempted to wrap an arm around him to massage his shoulder, but Kyungsoo had leaned away from the affection without a word so Chanyeol kept his hands in his lap, stealing glances at him every so often.

Shortly thereafter, Irene and Jinki return with booze and Chanyeol watches Kyungsoo unfurl. Sadness and ugly pangs of regret settle at the sides of his forehead. He realizes how different Kyungsoo is from the boy he was three years ago and how much of his character development he missed out on over the years.

“We’re gonna head out for the night,” Baekhyun announces. He and Sehun make their way towards the door hand in hand.

“Why?” Jongdae whines. He holds up the bottle of booze he’d torn from his lips and waves it in the air, almost knocking Wendy upside the head with it in the process. “The party is just getting started!”

Baekhyun frowns. “It’s _one in the morning_.”

“And…? You two are already turning into an old married couple and your wedding isn’t until what, next spring? Next you’ll be chewing his food for him and going to bingo events for fun. Sit back down and--”

“We should _all_ give Kyungsoo and Chanyeol time to catch up, right?” asks Sehun.

Chanyeol watches Sehun shoot a pointed look Irene’s way and the younger girl bolts up to her feet with Jinki following close behind. She goes to pry Jongdae off his ass, grabs both his arms and hauls him up, dismissing his whines as Wendy looks on in cloudy concern.

“Right! We’re gone,” Irene lilts, dragging Jongdae over towards the door. “Have a good night, you guys!”

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol wave their friends off.

The sound of Jongdae’s squealing tapers off into nothing and silence drapes the room like cerecloth. Chanyeol opens his mouth to fill the air with something, anything, but Kyungsoo speaks before he gets the chance.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he says.

He climbs off the bed and disappears into the bathroom with wobbly gait, slamming the door behind him. Chanyeol holds back the oceans in his eyes. He listens to the rush of the water and it competes to match the discordant buzz in his mind for what feels like centuries. His hands are dripping with sweat. The stunt he pulled at the concert has just added insult to injury.

The sound of the bathroom door opening startles him; Chanyeol jumps. He hadn’t heard the water shut off at all.

Kyungsoo traipses to his bag on his side of the bed and begins to don his pajamas.

“What’s wrong?” Chanyeol asks. “You were in there for like, a year.”

Kyungsoo grants him no response; he doesn’t even lift his head to look at him, just keeps his eyes on the carpet and dries his hair with a towel. He makes his way across the room and into the bathroom again. When he exits, Chanyeol approaches him and blocks his path. The look Kyungsoo shoots up at him is one filled with what Chanyeol can only interpret as loathing.

Chanyeol swallows around the dread in his throat. “S-sorry for sucking you off in public like that, kitten, but I thought you were--"

"You never think,” Kyungsoo spits, the flames in his eyes climbing. “That's the everlasting problem here!”

Chanyeol blinks rapidly and Kyungsoo puts his head in his hands for a second before going on. “I know Father Park lying to you about your mom fucked you up, and I am genuinely sorry about that. But come on--let's be honest with ourselves. You don’t know how to keep it in your pants. “I’ll wait for you”, my ass. Celibacy _my ass_! I haven’t so much as even _glanced_ at another guy in three fucking years. My entire high school career has been virtually wasted sitting on my fucking hands for you! I only ever saw you! I know you felt like shit but did you stop and think for a second about how _I_ would feel?"

"No. you're right. I didn't think. I was only thinking of myself. What’s more, I…I didn't just cheat once like I said. I cheated on you twice."

That causes Kyungsoo to shut down completely. He doesn’t resort to tears like he may have in the past, just stares through Chanyeol like he isn’t there and his silence hurts more than anything.

Chanyeol’s throat feels like it’s shrinking. “I should have just told you earlier, but I thought if you only knew the half of it, it would hurt less. That logic was stupid, I know, and I’m not proud of it. None of them meant even a fraction of what you mean to me, though. They were just… _bodies_.” Kyungsoo doesn’t so much as budge and it’s like Chanyeol has knowingly stepped into a trip wire, emotions detonating. "Say something,” he begs. “Say _any_ thing, dammit! I’m not a good person after all; I never have been! Deep down, you knew that from the beginning, right? Chew me out like you usually do! Call me names! Remind me of what a piece of shit I am again! Come on, I fucking deserve it!"

And Chanyeol is crying now, trying to embrace Kyungsoo but the smaller boy spurns his affections and pushes him away. Chanyeol falls to his knees in reverence at Kyungsoo's feet, hugging his hips so that he can't walk away. Displaying no signs of unraveling composure on his face, Kyungsoo knees Chanyeol in the chest and Chanyeol takes it. Kyungsoo stills after that, the disgust in his eyes causing Chanyeol to vibrate with the force of his sobs. He screws his eyes shut and buries his face in the fabric of Kyungsoo’s pants.

"How many people?" Kyungsoo asks, voice a hushed growl.

"…Two girls at once. Then that guy from campus who had a laugh that reminded me of yours."

“Were you safe?”

“Yes.”

Kyungsoo runs a hand through Chanyeol’s hair, a gentle act that belies the fire in his eyes. Chanyeol trembles. Kyungsoo’s grip tightens and he _pulls_ , yanks Chanyeol’s head back so that he's looking at him. Chanyeol’s neck strains. "Once a slut always a slut, huh? Did you think about me while your cock was inside them?"

" _Yes_.” Chanyeol discloses it so quickly that Kyungsoo’s eyebrows rise in interest, gaze following the movement of Chanyeol’s Adam’s apple. He loosens his grip on Chanyeol’s hair.

“You imagined what it would be like if I was the one under you instead?”

Holding eye contact, Chanyeol nods, mouths at Kyungsoo’s sweatpants. He presses his tongue against the shape of his cock, fingers tugging the fabric off his hips.

Kyungsoo grabs Chanyeol’s wrist, prying his fingers away. “Clothes off,” he orders. “Lay back on the bed. If you move, I’ll tie you down and fucking leave you here.”

Chanyeol obeys without hitch. He struggles for a moment in peeling his sweaty garments off his body and tossing them haphazardly on the floor, scrambling up onto the bed so quickly he clunks his swimming skull against the headboard as he sits. Kyungsoo hadn’t had as hard of a time; he’s already gotten out of his sweats and white tee by the time Chanyeol looks back over at him, his countenance dark.

With ease, Kyungsoo stands on the bed, his presence a mountain looming over Chanyeol. He fists a hand through Chanyeol’s hair once more. Chanyeol watches, his eyes big as Kyungsoo works a hand over the length of his hard cock, smears it with precum and the slick sound he creates is immensely sinful to Chanyeol’s ears. Chanyeol licks his lips; it’s been mere hours since he’d had a taste but he’s eager for more. He leans forward best he can with Kyungsoo holding him back, only to have his hair yanked in reprimand.

“What did I tell you?” Kyungsoo asks, cocking his head to the side. His bangs are covering his eyes up save for a sliver of his iris and the image paired with Kyungsoo’s deep voice makes Chanyeol shiver. “Don’t fucking move.”

Keeping his hand threaded in his hair, Kyungsoo presses the tip of his cock to Chanyeol’s lips and traces the shape of them softly at first, once, twice, hips swaying in fluid motions. He then grinds his cockhead harder into the pink flesh, eyes trained on the precum smearing against them and just as Chanyeol darts his tongue out for a taste, Kyungsoo pushes his dick into Chanyeol’s mouth, slipping his length in slow but forceful until his balls hit Chanyeol’s chin. Kyungsoo’s eyes darken and narrow, his lips falling open in pleasure as he drags his cock out agonizingly slow before rocking back in with a swing of his hips. He sets a rhythm and Chanyeol keeps up, his eyes locked on Kyungsoo. Chanyeol is appreciative of every thrust, every twitch of Kyungsoo’s cock, every thick drag of cock against his tongue, every sound he elicits from younger boy with each suction of his lips tighter around him, the taste of precum at the back of his throat, grateful to be so well fed.

It scares Chanyeol how fast it all escalates; Kyungsoo picks up the pace at once, thrusts into his mouth in a violent manner until Chanyeol’s eyes and nose are wet, drool running down his chin and neck. His own cock is curved against his abdomen, throbbing between his legs, but he’s not complaining. Kyungsoo has always been rather submissive in bed unless Chanyeol asked for otherwise and if this is punishment, something to teach Chanyeol a lesson by, it’s counterproductive; if it’s taught Chanyeol anything it’s that he _likes_ this rough treatment.

Kyungsoo grabs Chanyeol’s hair at either side of his head and holds him in place. Chanyeol gags at the feeling of Kyungsoo’s cock hitting the back of his throat and tries to adjust to the feeling as Kyungsoo pulls out and repeats the action. And just when it seems like the younger boy is close, protracted groan leaving him, he stops abruptly, pulls himself out and collapses onto his back beside Chanyeol.

Coughing, Chanyeol wipes at his wet face and mouth with the back of his wrist and looks down at Kyungsoo. His demeanor has done a one eighty; his chest is still heaving but more in desperation than with confidence now, limbs boneless, blaze in his eyes extinguished, soft. It’s as if he’s the one who’s been overpowered.

“Can’t take it anymore,” Kyungsoo breathes. “I really tried to keep the butch act up but to be honest, I didn’t wait two and a half years for that shit. I need your cock in me. _Now_.”

The depth of his desire spooks Chanyeol, zips from his head to his toes then back up to his cock so hard it aches. Chanyeol moves to find a condom but Kyungsoo stops him with strong fingers hooked around his arm.

“Forget it. I want you to give me all of you. It’s the _least_ you owe me.”

Chanyeol opens his mouth to speak but all he manages is a dry, cracked sound; his voice is raw.

Kyungsoo reaches over for lube, rustles around his tote and pulls the tiny bottle out. He inches to the middle of the bed, fluffs the pillow behind him and bolsters his head with it, spreading his legs. Chanyeol’s fuzzy brain forgets to tell his body to breathe as Kyungsoo squirts out a more than needed amount of lube and coats his cock and hole, presses two fingers inside himself at once and works himself open. Chanyeol is magnetized by the sight. Kyungsoo’s hard gaze pulls him in further, his glossy eyes reflecting only Chanyeol.

Chanyeol tries to draw things out by kissing Kyungsoo excessively on the mouth, on the collar, playing with his nipples. He dies a little at the way Kyungsoo shivers and whines beneath him; he feels he may go deaf with the velocity of his heartbeat in his ears. Chanyeol kisses Kyungsoo on the lips once more, runs his fingers through his bangs and he hadn’t wanted to say anything to kill the moment or press his luck, but the need overpowers him.

He’s surprised his voice even leaves him in this state. “Okay, so,” Chanyeol sighs, fan of breath causing Kyungsoo’s fringe to shift right back into his eyes. He pushes it up off his forehead and Kyungsoo looks at him funny. “Before we do this—because, _holy shit_ , we’re actually doing this--I just want you to know, like… _really_ understand that no matter how hard it is for you to trust a single word I say right now, my love for you is boundless, always has been, always will be. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told you I’d die for you. I’d follow you into the dark, I’d--”

“Oh my god, Shakespeare, reel it in for once and just fuck me.” 

Chanyeol dips down to slip his tongue into Kyungsoo’s mouth and sweat runs down the sides of his face. He inhales and gets his cock half way inside the other boy while looking in his eyes; he has to stop not only for Kyungsoo to adjust but for his own sake, too. He doesn't want to come on the spot; the tightness is like nothing he's ever experienced and he can _feel_ every inch of tension Kyungsoo’s holding up inside of him.

“How’s it feel?” Chanyeol asks. Kyungsoo doesn’t glare at him in response as Chanyeol feared he might; Chanyeol isn’t persuaded Kyungsoo heard him at all through the scratchiness of his tone. The younger boy’s face is scrunched cutely, too focused on feeling of being stretched. Chanyeol tries his hand yet again. “Big, right?”

Body and features relaxing, Kyungsoo exhales. He smirks and Chanyeol mirrors it. “Please. I’ve had toys in my ass way bigger than you.” Chanyeol’s smile widens and, ah. _There’s_ that snark he loves.

Relief makes Chanyeol snort. “But the real thing is so much better, right?” Chanyeol mocks. “Your words, remember?”

Red in the cheeks, Kyungsoo slaps him in the chest. “Shut up.” Chanyeol leans in closer so their hearts are aligned and watches Kyungsoo’s features contort in pleasure as his cock slides inside him to the hilt. He thrusts shallowly, experimental and unhurried. Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut, melting into the mattress under him. “ _Fuck_ , you’re deep.”

Chanyeol pulls out half way this time, thrusting back in slowly but with vigor, then draws back until his tip catches on Kyungsoo’s rim and the sound Kyungsoo makes as Chanyeol fucks himself back in slow is the best thing to ever grace his ears. Rolling his hips, Chanyeol kisses Kyungsoo’s neck, makes him make that sound again. Desire to please him outpacing Chanyeol’s own needs.

“Look at me,” he rasps, hands wandering from Kyungsoo’s hair to his face, down his chest and soft stomach all the way towards his hard cock, awing at the sudden contrast. “Tell me how much you love it.”

Kyungsoo sucks in a sharp breath. “I love it,” he admits. “I’d love it a lot more if you pressed my face into a pillow and drilled me into the fucking mattress. But seeing my expression as you unravel me is kinda your thing. You wanna study me good while you fuck me open, huh? Memorize it, stow it away for later.”

Chanyeol wants to know where on God’s green earth Kyungsoo learned to talk like that so proficiently without him. It’s fucking hot; he’d decided he had a thing for Kyungsoo talking dirty a while ago and gives a few long, deep thrusts in hopes that he’ll continue.

“Seriously, after all this time, this is all you’ve got?” Kyungsoo questions. “You’re a pro at this, right? I’m not made of glass. Even so, _break_ me.”

Chanyeol kisses Kyungsoo breathless. No matter how sexy he finds Kyungsoo’s dirty-talk, he’s intent on fucking him as slow as possible and he does just that, watches his sanity dribble away. Kyungsoo starts begging without words, dragging his nails down Chanyeol’s chest, arms, back, wrapping his legs around Chanyeol’s waist to keep him buried deeper inside, attempting to cling to him and work himself quicker on his cock. Collectedly, Chanyeol peels Kyungsoo’s arms from his shoulders, makes him lie flat again and separates their chests. He sits up, shifts to draw Kyungsoo’s legs together and holds him there, drag and plunge of his cock slowing even more. Chanyeol gets distracted by how _tiny_ Kyungsoo looks underneath him like this, entranced by the way his thighs look gripped in his hands, the way they yield under the tips of his fingers. Chanyeol wants to spend hours marking them up with his hands, with teeth, with his--

“—sack of shit.” Chanyeol has no clue how long Kyungsoo’s been calling him names. Could be a while judging by how red his face is. Chanyeol thinks the younger boy has some nerve trying to be defiant now when he’s stuffed _this_ full of his cock.

“ _Fuck_ me, asshole,” Kyungsoo grinds out through clenched teeth.

“Beg me for it.”

“Fuck _you_.”

“Which one is it?” The question is punctuated with a particularly sharp thrust. Kyungsoo lets out a hybrid of an aggravated grunt and a blissful moan and Chanyeol laughs. Kyungsoo grumbles something unintelligible under his breath after recovering and Chanyeol soothes a hand down his chest. “Tell me exactly what you want from me, baby.” Maybe it’s foolish, playing with fire this way, denying a god of his offering. Then again, maybe Chanyeol sort of gets off on testing his luck.

“I want you to fuck me harder.”

Chanyeol smirks. “How hard?”

“So hard our friends hear me scream your name from each of their rooms. So hard you have to fucking carry me out of here tomorrow. So hard I speak in tongues and see God behind my fucking eyelids as you fill me up, fuck. Just… _fuck_ me. _Please_.”

It’s the magic word, the trip switch to Chanyeol’s self-control. He grabs the fleshiest parts of Kyungsoo’s hips tight and snaps forward, gives Kyungsoo what he wants in excess. He watches the flesh on his thighs ripple, the lewd sound of skin on skin drowned out by animalistic grunts and needy moans. Chanyeol wants to see just how loud Kyungsoo can get, _knows_ it has to be louder than this and cants his hips harder at the prospect.

“Shit,” Kyungsoo shouts, hand tugging at his cock to match the speed of Chanyeol’s thrusts. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” Chanyeol says. “Come for me, baby.”

A tweak of his nipple wheedles Kyungsoo into moaning so loud Chanyeol’s ears ring with the sound, musical, and Chanyeol leans in and fucks him more rapidly. The change of angle and the precision and adroitness of Chanyeol's hips makes Kyungsoo orgasm like a rocket liftoff, spurting hot between their stomachs and Chanyeol follows suit at the sight, spilling hot inside him.

Chanyeol lifts Kyungsoo’s hips off the bed and leers at the way his hole clenches, staring in wonder at his own come trickling from his ass. Kyungsoo hides his reddened face behind his arm and Chanyeol’s heart rate spikes.

“You look prettiest like this,” he says, pressing a finger to Kyungsoo’s wet entrance. Kyungsoo shivers. “Dripping my come.”

That just earns him a foot in the face.

 

It’s not even an hour later. But Kyungsoo is still desperate for it.

Chanyeol presses Kyungsoo’s face up against one of the many mirrors in the room and makes him beg for his dick again, teases his hole, the head of his cock slapping and prodding against puckered skin. He marvels as Kyungsoo’s hole suctions around the head before pulling out with a pop, gets the perimeter wet before sinking in fully and fucking him deep. Kyungsoo refuses to open his eyes and look at himself getting stuffed full at first, but then his eyes are soaking in the sight, his breath is fogging up the glass as Chanyeol bathes him in appreciation, goes into raptures over how _good_ he looks impaled on his cock.

Kyungsoo comes in streams from the extolment.

 

They’re lying back down on the bed, Kyungsoo’s head resting on Chanyeol’s chest. Kyungsoo had opened up about a few things, from the fact that he got accepted into a music school in NYC (their campuses would only be a couple hours away) to the fact that he might have a thing for rough sex and where that might stem from.

“Maybe it has something to do with my daddy issues,” he muses. “Or maybe it’s just because I’ve been deprived of it for so long?”

“Maybe you’re just a freak,” Chanyeol offers.

“You’re one to talk. How many threesomes _have_ you had exactly?”

Chanyeol falls silent and Kyungsoo looks up at him with concern. Chanyeol goes stiff, turns his gaze to the ceiling and stares, frustration prickling at the sides of his eyes.

“Chanyeol...?”

Chanyeol takes a deep breath. He mulls over the words he’s about to say. It’s now or never. “I’ve always been into sex, I think? Ever since I can remember, I was curious about it and it just seemed so natural to me. I was never ashamed of being a slut or whatever. Not really. My first serious relationship was with a nineteen-year-old girl. I was fourteen. She drove a Cadillac and had these massive, fake tits to match all the fake smiles she wore and here I was, just learning how _not_ to come in under, like, ten minutes. I thought I was the coolest person in the world for being with her. At first. But once I realized how manipulative she was and that she was just using me for money and sex, I wanted out. She was controlling and extremely emotionally abusive.”

Chanyeol finally turns towards Kyungsoo but doesn’t look him in the face. He runs a finger over the hickie that’s begun to bloom on his clavicle.

“After skipping class for the first time in my high school career to meet her for drinks in the middle of the day, of which we both had several, she insisted on fucking me with a strap on. She couldn’t wrap her ignorant brain around the fact that I’m bi but wasn’t into that sort of thing back then. I mean, I’d only really gone as far as fingering myself at that point. I was wary and had a volcano of a headache from drinking. I felt sort of queasy but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I agreed to just fuck her normally but she was angry with me, I guess. She was being overtly bitchy and rough as she rode me and mocked the way I whined for her to ease up. She never did. Afterwards, she left me in a pool of my own tears and said I was the worst fag she’d ever seen. I cried so hard I vomited, ran to the church to pray about it but it didn’t do much to help. I felt sullied. Used. I never saw her again after that and was frustrated with myself for _wanting_ to see her again. If only to ask her why.”

“Chanyeol…I--”

“Y’know, I think sleeping around became a backwards, twisted way of coping--I mean, I knew I’d become pretty good at it, and for a while it was all I felt good _for_. I never told anyone about what happened back then—not dad, not Baekhyun or Sehun. Not anyone. There was one time I opened up about it on an anonymous chat room online. It was a bad idea, a cry for help. People told me it wasn’t possible for a guy to be raped by a woman. I’ve made progress about it with my therapist recently. She helped me come to terms with the fact that it played a part in why I wanted to keep my distance from you, not only because of my own guilt but because I would never want anyone to feel the way she made me feel, especially the first person I’ve ever been in love with.”

Chanyeol peers up at Kyungsoo’s face and his heart sinks. Kyungsoo looks like he’s a blink away from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says, eyes glittering. He blinks and sure enough, tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Chanyeol slips his hand into the younger boy’s and squeezes. “I had no idea—I…all the shit I said about you, about you being a slut--”

“Still correct.”

Kyungsoo closes the distance between their faces. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.”

“I’m not fucked up about it anymore. For a while, I really was but. I’m fine now. Really.”

“But you’ll never forget it,” Kyungsoo says. “And the piece of you she stole, the whole she left, it--”

Chanyeol takes Kyungsoo’s face into his hand and kisses him hard. “You fill it, okay? _You_ fill it.”

Kyungsoo hugs him tight.

 

After washing him, Kyungsoo wraps Chanyeol in his embrace and pampers him with kisses, swathes him in cuddles. He holds him in the shower until their fingers are pruney, until Chanyeol’s fears and worries are washed down the drain along with the sweat on their skin, until Chanyeol isn’t sure where the water begins and his body ends. Chanyeol lets Kyungsoo cry for him one more because his own tears have run dry.

 

Chanyeol climbs on the bed and hovers over him, admiring him; Kyungsoo’s skin is glistening, cock flushed and standing at attention against his soft belly. The image of sublimity.

Kyungsoo’s chest stipples with the weight of Chanyeol’s gaze and Chanyeol admires him that way for too long, in a daze. He then quickly dips down to steal a kiss, a hard press that makes Kyungsoo’s eyes stretch impossibly wider. An emotion so strong rushes through Chanyeol he feels weak, arms wobbling as he wastes no time peppering kisses to the underside of Kyungsoo’s jaw. He makes his way downwards, plants a range of light pecks transforming to sloppy sweeps of tongue across his collar and chest, savoring the taste of soap and placidity on his skin. He stops to play with each of his nipples, suckling before taking each between his teeth and nipping. Kyungsoo moans, depraved. On his descent towards to his navel, he amps it up, spends less time coddling and uses his teeth. Chanyeol sees that virtually every inch of skin gets attention, flips Kyungsoo over and repeats, singing lauds of his admiration and doesn’t stop until he’s marked up the way he likes.

Chanyeol turns Kyungsoo over and absorbs the sight of him, hair muddled, chest heaving, fingers wet and bitten from being shoved in his mouth and he wants this moment tinted on the backs of his eyelids for eternity.

Kyungsoo’s demeanor has softened since his confession, and Chanyeol likes the soft side of him, but he doesn’t want him holding back so as not to offend him, doesn’t need his pity. His eyes grow wide and he follows as Chanyeol yanks him up by the arm and leads him to the large window at the side of the room and presses his body up against it. He presses his body against him, wraps his fingers around his cock and studies his reflection in the glass. It’d be easy for anyone nearby to look out their window or glance up and get an eyeful and Chanyeol’s cock leaks in intrigue at the prospect.

Truth is, Chanyeol wants the world to know Kyungsoo is his. He was made to be exalted.

Chanyeol arches to pepper kisses up Kyungsoo's spine and neck takes his mouth off him to speak. “So pretty, baby. Want everyone to see how good you look like this, all marked up and perfect for me. In awe of your beauty but unable to get close enough to touch.”

Kyungsoo shivers in response, low groan caught in his throat, the wet spot left on the glass from his leaking cock smearing.

Chanyeol kisses down his spine to his ass cheeks, crouches and sucks the flesh into his mouth, biting. Kyungsoo’s sucking on his fingers again to hold back whines and the sounds are too cute to handle. Chanyeol turns his attention to Kyungsoo's balls for a moment, presses his tongue flat up against his hole and licks teasingly, then gets it slick with spit before lapping shapes around the fluttering ring of muscle, tongue prodding but not quite pushing in fully. Kyungsoo jumps at the sensation then arches into it.

It’s uncharted territory but it isn’t floundering or clumsy. The chemistry between them is electric, combined energies more in sync than anyone Chanyeol has ever encountered in his years of experience; Kyungsoo responds ardently to every single touch no matter how slight.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo grinds out, voice wrecked. He’s got a hand around his cock now, hips canting back and Chanyeol continues to tease him, keeps up his arrogant act though he wants to whine and pull at his own cock just as bad.

Chanyeol halts his actions. “Am I going to have to make you beg again?”

“Please,” Kyungsoo says, breath labored. “Do it properly.”

Chanyeol grips him by the haunches and holds him in place so that he can’t go anywhere and wastes no time in opening him up, eats his ass like it’s his last meal because it's what Kyungsoo deserves and in that moment, Chanyeol no longer feels stranded in the desert of his morals about the way he feels for the younger boy.

Kyungsoo is the water he'd been seeking in this drought.

He isn’t yet sated though, can’t get enough and it feels like his lungs are filled with smoke, the taste addictive. He holds the smaller boy firm in place so that his ass cheeks are smothering him, the breath leaving him for a moment, heart rate spiking and does it again for good measure.

He lets up a bit, soothes Kyungsoo over with gentler licks, loosens his hold and lets Kyungsoo ride his tongue, one hand pressed to the glass, one pulling at his cock, chasing his orgasm and the sight has Chanyeol touching himself just as eagerly. 

“Gonna come,” Kyungsoo groans.

Chanyeol recoils for air, gasping. “On my face.”

Kyungsoo turns around, ass pressed to the window and obliges. The display is glorious, the feel of his hot load a weirdly freeing sort of baptism. Chanyeol follows forthwith, spurting so intensely a bit of his own come reaches his chin, causing him to jump and Kyungsoo laughs at the mess they’ve made.

 

 

Chanyeol meets with his psychiatrist once a week now. He’s thankful for all the progress they’ve made, how much he’s been able to open up to her in the passing months. Seeing her face brings him a certain comfort. 

“I changed your prescription like you wanted,” she tells him, tucking her short hair behind her ear. “These should work more efficiently.”

“Thank you. You’re a god-send.” He beams at her.

“And _you’re_ smiling more. That’s good. You and Kyungsoo made up, I take it?”

Chanyeol nods.

“Did you tell him yet?”

“Yeah, but I skipped the whole burning-myself-with-cigarettes thing because I thought the rape subject was heavy enough. Didn’t want him to run away for good.” He's glad the burn scars healed; he had gotten rid of any sign of them with expensive cream.

She looks sheepish. “I meant about you buying a house.”

“Ah. That. Right.” Chanyeol inhales and exhales deeply. “Haven’t gotten to it as yet.”

 

 

Junmyeon is glad to accompany Chanyeol to Kyungsoo’s graduation. He brings Minho along and Chanyeol is tongue tied a good five minutes upon being introduced to him. The boy is like a real life prince and even more polite than Junmyeon (impossible) with perfect English and a dazzling smile. The way he treats Junmyeon is something straight out of a film; he holds doors for him, pulls out chairs and if he had an endless carpet to roll out so Junmyeon would never get his feet dirty, he would make a career out of doing so.

After the party, Kyungsoo surprises Chanyeol with cruise tickets for his twentieth birthday. He’s glowing with pride from the shocked reaction he’d gotten out of Chanyeol and Chanyeol feels bad the younger boy spent so much money on him, but being away from Wisconsin--away from his dad, would do him well.

Chanyeol hasn’t spoken to Father Park and doesn’t plan on doing so any time soon. He had gone and gathered a few things from his house when his dad was out with Kyungsoo watching guard. If Chanyeol saw him, he didn’t know what he might do. The anger he felt was scary and made him vibrate just thinking about the betrayal, but Kyungsoo had told him something that struck him.

The sunlight had been shining through the window on Kyungsoo, highlighting the flecks of brown in his eyes and hair, the silky strands alive with the breeze.

“Avoiding your dad is perfectly fine if it helps you heal. And don’t force yourself to let him off the hook immediately. But you have to muster some semblance of forgiveness. Do it for no one but yourself, for your own peace of mind. Holding a grudge against him will punish you more than him. You taught me something similar. Remember?”

 

The sun has begun to set in the horizon and Chanyeol wasn’t aware that so many different shades of pink existed before today.

People had been like ants on the shore all day, drawn to the clear, blue water in drones. They’ve just started to slowly leave the beach now, scattering under looming threat of a storm. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol pay the darkening clouds little mind.

The tiny black speedos Kyungsoo had packed were offensive (“I’m just trying to adhere to the style here”). Chanyeol was sure the younger boy was doing it on purpose--bending over exaggeratedly and bouncing up and down in front of him so he got a proper gander of how good his ass looked and it was successful; Chanyeol had been bothered intermittently for hours.

Chanyeol had had enough; he drags Kyungsoo underneath the boardwalk and makes him lie with his back against the towel he’d thrown out in the sand, pulls the speedos down his thighs with rough, eager hands. He decides to leave them there, the black fabric balled up and stretched and digging into his skin. It aids to keep his legs in place as Chanyeol pulls his hard cock out of his trunks and fucks into Kyungsoo with abandon, each forward thrust pushing his tinier form up on the blanket. It’s reckless but the unscented lotion Chanyeol had stuck in his pocket earlier is a life saver. The footsteps against the wooden structure above their heads, the fact that they could be seen or heard by innocent beach dwellers is part of what makes Chanyeol drive himself into Kyungsoo harder with each thrust. Kyungsoo gives up on biting back the sounds Chanyeol’s trying so desperately to draw out of him and as Chanyeol shifts the angle, Kyungsoo writes, attempts to grip at sand, desperate whine mixed with the amplifying slap of their wet skin. Chanyeol comes deep inside him and Kyungsoo revels in it. His ass and legs are covered in cum and sand (Chanyeol hadn’t noticed when the blanket had shifted) as he hurries to lick the taste of himself off of Chanyeol’s dick.

 

“I bought a house in Manhattan,” Chanyeol blurts. They had just sat back down to eat the icecream they’d bought; Kyungsoo was mid-lick as Chanyeol spoke and he startles, abruptly turns to gawk at Chanyeol, causing icecream to fall off his cone and down his chest. Chanyeol is tempted to lick it off but staves off the impulse.

“Congrats,” Kyungsoo says, smiling wide before wiping the icecream off with his towel.

Chanyeol shrugs like it’s not a _mammoth_ of a deal. “Yeah, I’ve gotten mostly everything taken care of. It’s just so big, y’know. I got lost during the tour and almost broke my ass testing out how far I could slide across the shiny hardwood floors in only my socks and knocked over at least ten vases in the process. I spent a good twenty minutes looking for the realtor; I thought I was gonna die alone in there. What I’m saying is, I’m too much of a klutz to live by myself and I’m more shit at dealing with the isolation in my head than previously thought and--”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Do you _want_ to?”

Kyungsoo looks to the darkening sky in deliberation. “I’d have to consider it. I mean there are so many options to be weighed here. There’d have to be a whole _helluva_ lot of compromise…”

Chanyeol pouts. Kyungsoo leans in and kisses it off is lips.

“Of fucking _course_ I want to move in with you. Loser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -title from the weeknd's [as you are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIu_q1P3AyE)  
> -hmmm welp i'm not satisfied with the way this fic turned out lmao but big thanks to everyone who commented/kudo'd ! even if you didn't like it, i appreciate anyone who gave this series a try lol. i rly NEVER would have had the will to finish this if not for you guys!!!! <3  
> -talk to me on [tumblr](http://frozenasphalt.tumblr.com/) !!! i don't bite !  
> -if anyone wants to be my beta reader......pls......help lol


End file.
